Quagmire
by Lil' Monk
Summary: What a tangled web we weave, of impossibility & twisted sentiment. Sasori. Hinata. Itachi. Deidara. Interactions, partnerships; confounding the blurring lines, all becoming intertwined- A circle of chains can only end in? 1.3.5 SH, 2.4.8 DI, 6 SD, 7 DHIS
1. One for sorrow

**Disclaimers:** Naruto series is copyrighted to Kishimoto Masashi. I'm not making money off this. Just indulging the imagination.

**A/N: **Decided to choose a timeframe where all main characters of this multi-chaptered fic would still be alive. Mostly.

Titles are quoted from a nursery rhyme, from the Mother Goose books.

Words in italics denote primary thoughts.

**Setting of fic: **Starts during the timeline jump, in the 6 months before Naruto returns to Konoha.

**One for Sorrow**

Cold. Drenched. Shivering.

The fierce downpour had deterred her from catching up to her companions.

Today had lapsed into the later half of the afternoon, but there was at least another hour before sunset. It would take her slightly more than that time to get back to Konoha, though. However, what she needed now was a shelter from this heavy downpour, and the trees weren't substantial enough.

_There!_

Spotting an opening in one of the rock walls just before everything became only lush forest, Hinata sprinted up the side (using concentrated chakra as additional adherence) and entered dry darkness.

Then again, it wasn't that bleak. There appeared to be a small beacon of light at the far end. Considering the deceptively small entrance and with what little illumination was available from outside, this cave was presumably much larger in dimension. However, the passageway was rather dark and didn't look safe.

_Bya-Eh? Impossible._

Her senses detected extremely quiet movement somewhere up ahead on the ceiling, then to her left and for a moment, it brought back memories of old fears… of stealthy enemies that nearly succeeded in kidnapping a hapless child. Shifting further to her right until her back was to the wall while drawing out a kunai, she was about to fully awaken the Byakugan when-

Both palms closed together over the flat of serrated metal, stopping its advance.

"Hn. Bad weather draws all types of bugs."

Not releasing her hold, she stared in the direction of the speaker, who had dropped to the ground and was between the entrance and her. He was shorter and stouter than she was, and not that… ugly. Really. He sounded somewhat old. This raspy-voiced man somehow resembled a giant beetle. The blade she had intercepted was wrenched out of her grip. In the faint light, was that- A tail swayed lazily like the motion of a sound wave, that and looking down at this unmoving entity now reminded her of a peacefully grotesque puppy, albeit a very dangerous one. _A tail? What?_

At least he wasn't attacking anymore. Instinct told her to keep her abilities with the Byakugan hidden for now. The distant light must be a fire he had made. Flustered, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Um, uh…m-may I share the f-fire with you?"

Hinata did not know that the man had already identified the presence of this invasion as a chuunin from the Village of Leaf. The man was also not surprised if it was afraid. But nothing was conclusive yet. Toggling with a switch in his armour, changing and adjusting the lenses in yellow orbs until it was suitable for night vision, he zoomed in.

A short-haired stuttering mouse wanted to breach his privacy. What a dull sight. Drooping shoulders were hunched forward protectively; pasty skin and the way it shrank away, as if wanting to blend in with the walls and floor, only cemented his opinion. Eyes that appeared to have no pupils reminded him of dead fish floating on top of a river.

Should he exercise pest control?

"I-I'll go to t-the o-other side, so y-you w-will not get wet."

That was when he noticed the slight bluish tinge to pale lips, and the trembling… Ah. The combined effect of being cold and wet was also affecting enunciation, but the speech mannerisms… such soft-spoken politeness hinted of a rather privileged upbringing.

Some amusement was needed to pass the time, while he figured out a way to determine (with minimal testing and maximum gain) whether this one was worth adding to his stash or for fertilising the flowers. And here, he'd been thinking that just passing through the outskirts of the Country of Fire would be another dull journey. Sasori was in a generous and lazy mood. It had to be blamed on the weather. He didn't like being bored.

"Come."

_Me. Idiot._ On hindsight and further consideration, Hinata reckoned she should not have opened her mouth in the first place, and just left. Being desperate for warmth was not a justified excuse to ask for a favour from someone like him. Walking behind the shuffling individual and leaving a trail of miserable wetness, the taller figure didn't know whether to be relieved or think of an excuse to leave. It was not comfortable.

Blessed warmth did nothing to alleviate her uneasiness.

In fact, firelight made it worse.

Black-and-red scorpions were anything but her favourite insects. Hinata was in a quandary of sorts. She didn't want to look at him, and the wet clothing sticking to her clammy skin needed to be- There was a harsh chuckle.

"As expected."

What? What was expected? Was he… laughing at her? He was horrid. And disgusting. She wanted to Gentle Fist his mouth shut. But first, she had to stop shivering.

"I-Indeed?"

What a laughable child. She was obviously frightened of his appearance, knuckles white with the effort of undecided course of action, and doubtless having no clue as to what he meant. Contempt would not be hidden, when she was brave enough to deserve it. Condescension, on the other hand… Those googly corneas were interesting, the way tiny wrinkles appeared at the corners of puckered skin as she narrowed her eyes at him, or widened in surprise.

"You would be fearful. After witnessing such an ugly outward appearance of someone who doesn't care for your presence… Run away, little girl. Or turn your back and hide your eyes. Although if you ask politely, I'll do it so you won't have to try any harder to fade into the background."

Hinata recognised belittlement, due to earlier years of childhood. This stranger was-was- More than anything, she didn't like his rudeness, even if it was true. Beginning twinges of empathy were stomped flat by fierce solemnity from this Hyuuga.

"You needn't be so unpleasant, unless it's your intention to repel people. No one here cares about your looks. You- Nevermind. Enjoy your space of self-pity and stop projecting on others."

That hateful yellow gaze now rested on her. About to leave the main chamber, his words stopped her.

"Liar. Your eyes have been averted all this while. Step out, take a deep breath; happily catch pneumonia and you'll forget this short moment of aggrandizing posturing."

Not moving, head bowed, all that could be heard was the faint plinking of water from sodden clothes.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Raising her head, she looked him directly in the eye.

"That's partially true. To look at someone and be unable to hold back pity, knowing they don't want or need it… only makes the pitied individual feel worse. Frustration. Anger. The humiliation of your own helplessness at preventing unwelcome sympathy hurts."

_Unless you've mastered the art of getting over it, which I haven't._

He could hear her unspoken finish, in the way her voice no longer sounded tight and less high-pitched, verbal speed slowing as each word became less pronounced. She was seeing something else, even though she was facing him. Her answer reminded him of the boy who had not grown up fast enough to know his parents, and the way other children treated him because they didn't know how to react. Wretched fools. This girl might not be one.

A shapeless mass landed at her feet.

"The rain will not let up so soon. Do what you wish with this cloak."

Staring at the black puddle a while longer, she bent to pick it up. Her antagonist now sounded relatively neutral. Gingerly holding it at arm-length so as not to get it too damp, she realised he'd turned away to look at the wall. His studied concentration was on reddish-brown rock, as if the numerous cracks and odd spider scuttling across was absolutely fascinating. His consideration was oddly touching, and helped her make up her mind.

Stepping away from him until she found the largest shadow, Hinata hurriedly shucked off the wet garments and wrapped dry softness about herself. Picking up her clothing and taking them back to the fireside, to be spread out nearby and allowed to dry… that was the easy part. Addressing the other was harder.

"O-oji-san, thank you. Er, how do I, er-"

"Ji-san will do."

There was a pause. He still seemed to be enraptured with boring stone. Or- _Ack._

"Ah, I- I like the cloak. It's a relief. And it's h-hard to talk to someone when they're not looking at you."

Now she had his undivided attention.

"It's even harder to return the gesture when one keeps cringing."

"Not if a chance is given for interaction. I am Hinata."

She didn't know where she found the courage from, but a fierce desire flared up inside of not wanting to be mocked. Low, sonorous amusement curled around her.

"Generous youth. Your speech and manner displays the quality of your upbringing… and the sign on your neckband is…?"

She didn't want to have to answer that line of questioning. It always led back to the clan, and her father had warned her not to give away any more hints; despite her weaknesses, she was a Hyuuga and his heir.

"A kunoichi of Konoha."

"…Hinata?"

"Only Hinata."

Silence enveloped them once more. It felt like a game of chess, both sides probing for openings that were shuttered. The next round was underway.

"What do you do for a living, ji-san?"

"I make toys."

Her snort could not be suppressed. His glare just made everything funnier.

Him? Toys? Somehow, she didn't think so. For an excuse, it was ludicrous. And she could not believe she had been about to laugh. Trying to contain her amusement, she brought up a more superficial issue.

"Strange, how smoke from the fire does not choke up this place."

His masks were as strong, maybe even better than Naruto-kun, to be able to recover so fast and give a neutral-sounding response. "There are more openings to smaller caves at the top. It creates a natural chimney of sorts."

"Like a wind tunnel."

"Must you always state the obvious?"

Looking away for a moment, her answer was more muted but no less prickly.

"It's to make up for you liking to hide in the shadows. Pot, meet kettle."

The last three words were muttered in exasperation, but he'd heard. And it was wonderful to laugh, to realise that someone was able to answer back, despite apparent fear while retaining the wits. She might be worth squandering some intellect on, after all. He'd see, while shifting a little more towards his right.

"I prefer it. Do you know why?"

The girl shook her head. Her lack of pretentiousness was endearing, and he lowered his guard. Gently.

"In darkness, you paint yourself. In light, others paint you."

At his words, one small hand loosely made a circular gesture as she asked, "Then what do you call this?"

He did not bother to glance around, knowing he would see in the firelight, dark phantasms dancing, changing, deceiving but not budging from their origins, a mixture of light and shadow…

"You tell me."

Listening to this man –hearing him speak of amazing things that weren't usual instructions or battle strategies of how to bluff and defeat an opponent– mellowed and opened up something she had always known, somewhere deep inside. He was referring to possible truth beyond that, of life and… his own weakness? And she didn't know the answer, much less what context the question was in.

How did they get here, from his disappearing scorn to her… desiring respect? He was smart –she could tell– and definitely more intelligent than her, because he could come up with such clever concepts. All she could do was try and find solutions to already existing mysteries. A mystery he was testing her with.

_Think, Hinata. Think. The answer can't be too far away… _And then she realised what the initial keyword clues were. The answer had been in her thought process, which he had (unconsciously?) guided her through. And she shifted more to her left.

"It's up to us then, isn't it?"

Almost impressive. Good. She had been able to evaluate and reconstruct the boundaries, while meeting his careful vagueness with true imitation that only came from equal understanding. And… he had never seen a sweeter smile. That observation wiped the temporary smile off his actual face, which was hidden within the armour. His frostiness returned as he snapped, "There's no need for you to come closer."

Her timidity returned with such intimidation. "Er, I did not want to have a shouting conversation … and w-what were you doing?"

Oh. Now Sasori was embarrassed, which was something that had not been experienced in **years. **He considered chopping off her head, or plucking out her fingernails one by one and more… after telling her a story. And seeing her yawn, he decided to flay her alive later. Definitely.

The fact that he was practically not reacting made Hinata uneasy. Unable to stifle sudden weariness and forgetting to cover it up left her mortified.

"Ji-san, my apologies for the rudeness. It's been a long day of missions and I'm tired… Not that it's a good justification, but it's the truth. I'll probably be turning in soon."

Thankfully Kiba had mucked up enough of the second mission, so they had ended up having a delayed lunch. Rest was a bigger priority than food at this point and judging by the half-open packs of her current companion, her slumber would enable him to take off black cloth covering the lower half of his face, and eat without her scrutiny. Or leave without her noticing. Besides, the rain had not subsided.

Sasori had to stifle a chuckle. Hearing the apology led to an unusual grin she couldn't see. It was due to a mixture of things, and the end result was anything but pleasant. Malicious mischief was possibly one of the strongest inspirations.

"Hm. Would you like to hear a story? Makes it easier to fall… asleep. But you'll have to come closer."

She could hear the not-so-disguised sneer in that last sentence. Considering everything, she would take him up on his challenge. And more. Rising and walking over, she eventually lay down next to his seated form, pretending not to see the startled jerk of his head, or the mild retreat backwards.

"Why not? I've had trouble sleeping, so maybe it'll help."

He didn't ask why. She was glad not to have to answer.

His retaliation only cemented unclassifiable strangeness between two individuals.

Fingers in her hair caused the entire body to tense. But as they continued stroking, she relaxed. And tried not to think about a dangerous tail that swayed like a tree in the wind.

He told her a story about the cruelty of children, and how their innocence was the worst weapon of all. The topic was not a suitable tranquilliser but the voice he used, like pouring syrup into a well… it had the intended effect, and coupled with irrepressible exhaustion making itself felt… _there's something else, wait_…

Fighting off the impending tidal wave of unconsciousness, she managed to blurt out, "I… didn't… get your name…"

Movement ceased.

"Then come back for it in a month's time. Same time and place, if you are still interested."

There was no response. From the way she had curled up, breathing regularly and practically dead to the world, it was uncertain whether she'd heard him. But it'd been an indescribable exchange of views (maybe more) between himself and this- She wasn't as gullible as he'd surmised. And here he was, forgetting his first lesson: looks were deceptive. For unadulterated amusement, and the joy of frustrating while intriguing him… he would let her live.

Until he had certified her full battle-worth in their next encounter. After all, his collection could always do with more interesting tools.

* * *

**Next up**: Deidara has a visitor. Or 2.

Extra notes: "Ji-san" can be used to address an old man (not necessarily bloodkin like one's grandfather).


	2. Two for joy

**Disclaimers:** See 1st chapter.

**A/N: **Going to experiment with a certain writing style. Ori is an OC for friendship that I'm borrowing from my old "Three Degrees of Relevance" fic for this chapter (In trying to depict her realistically: I don't like the idea of romance and her, and she doesn't get everything she wants). Deidara has a home of his own elsewhere, and what transpires is-

**Two for joy**

The shorter figure dropped to the ground and mimicked Deidara as he moved. Running from one end of flat, dusty expanse to the other, both maintained a safe distance between each other.

"Cornering a man isn't a good way to go about wooing one, Ori, un. Didn't the encounter with Kisame teach you anything, un?"

He leapt down behind a large boulder, as numerous senbon were flung with deadly precision. A second slower and he would definitely have been hit. Her verbal missiles were just as amusing.

"I'll sew your lips together. Go back to rambling about art."

A shower of clay pebbles was his reply.

Springing off smooth hardness to land like a crab on a jutting wedge of rock, she waggled a finger at him as they exploded harmlessly past their target. Watching him run in a zigzag fashion towards her, it made him harder to hit from a distance.

"My art is paralysing glory, un. Sasori-danna's is stashing covetousness, un. Your views, un?"

Coming closer, he was keeping an eye on the almost hypnotic motions of sharpened metal that she handled.

"I agree with the puppet nut, and with you. Because…"

A short jab was feinted to the left that he shifted away from, before she brought the katana back across in a vicious slash to the right.

"Outstanding art titillates the senses. True art endures, be it gone in a flash or preserved. History is the collector, the Present our blank canvas!"

Ducking beneath the sweep of the blade, he was lunging forward to stab with a kunai and some verbal heckling.

"Don't you have a standing grudge with Kisame-san and Sasori-danna, un?"

Jumping and bringing a leg up, metal-lined black zori deflected the edge, as she used the contact like a springboard to throw herself to the side and out of his immediate range. Landing and coming out of the half-roll to remain crouched like a wary cat, vigorous swiveling of the wrist wove a shield of gleaming metal to knock numerous grey shuriken away.

"That was a low blow, you bastard!"

Seeing the special smoking tag on a shuriken stuck with sticky clay to her primary weapon, she hurled the sword at him. Mock sadness did not help.

"Is this how you thank me for reminding you, un?"

Grinning, he easily sidestepped the incoming projectile and sprinted towards her while uncoiling a whip from his belt. There was a sound of loudly disintegrating metal somewhere behind him. Lashing out, the whip snaked around her wrist, a hard tug from him yanked the girl off her feet. Ori always had good reflexes; she'd saved herself from a broken wrist this time.

"You should see the arguments I have with Sasori-danna about defining Art, un. Explosive stuff, un."

Preventing a painful face-first encounter with the ground by pushing against it with one hand, she came out of a roll and followed the direction of gained momentum towards a pile of rocks. Split-second contact with them gave her enough stability for ricocheting back off, while drawing out a kunai. Chunks of stone sprayed everywhere as she headed right for Deidara, one stroke severing their connection and a second movement sending the small blade spinning towards his throat.

Easily overcoming it with his own kunai, he withdrew the well-worn blade in time to parry a senbon meant for his left eye. One bandaged hand had wrapped around his fist and effectively stopped the punch, while metallic lethality warred with each other for leeway.

Jerking his right hand out of her grip, he angled opened fingers for her waist.

"S-stop! Dei-"

She tried to twist away from the probing fingers that tickled her, stilling at the feel of razor-sharp steel touching her throat.

"I win, un."

"You cheated. Asshole."

Laughing, they broke contact. Both walked back towards their abandoned chess game. The exercise had been good, and now they could fully concentrate again on the mental exertions. Both liked to meet up and every now and then, indulge their melodramatic sides.

"Since you lost, you owe me a story, un."

"Damn you, Deidara-**bo**."

"At least you didn't lose as badly as when you fought my leader all those months ago, un…"

* * *

_Barely able to keep herself upright on both knees, fingers dig into gritty soil to keep wobbly arms from giving way. A thin trail of blood stains the left corner of the mouth to the chin, even as an unsuppressed cough produces viscous mucus thickened with more crimson hemoglobin._

_There is a soft rustle of cloth against Nature, as even footsteps bring black cotton stitched with scarlet silk closer towards the defeated girl._

_Lean fingers fit for inspiration of a sculptor dig into pale flesh, tightening as the victor wrenches his opponent off her knees to suspend her using one arm, her feet dangling limply above the ground. Hovering in the air, both soar even higher until they are one body-length above tattered grass. Drawing back his other free hand and tilting his wrist so that the palm faces upwards diagonally, long sharp nails are accentuated by a halo from the sunlight hitting dark keratin at an obtuse angle._

_Sasori smiles in anticipation at completion of revenge. Deidara sighs. Kisame grins. There is no expression in teardrop pupils floating in a sea of red tranquility._

_That purposeful left hand jerks forward, five razor-edged tips aimed for the spinal cord just below the breastbone. Puncturing worn fibre to delve beneath sallow skin, fresh blood oozes from the wound he creates… and goes no deeper. Drawing five dark garnet lines upwards to stop at her collarbone, a thirsty tongue sucks the spoils of winning off an index finger._

_"Mmm… Fear mingles with the decadence of desiring ultimate rest, creating a delicious tang of delightful richness. Like copper crushed with sea salt and sugarcane syrup…"_

_The bloody opening seems to burn nerve endings, clearing a woozy mind back into lucidity._

_"A taste I'll preserve. You could make me sweat, thus I'll await the enjoyable prospect of bleeding. Enjoy the debt of owing me your life and death… until then, you're spared for the information-gathering that is your outstanding forte. Retrieve the membership ring from Orochimaru, if your opinions are to have any worth."_

_That line causes the others to freeze, as his meaning sinks in. Itachi isn't surprised._

_Leaning forward until their chests touch, blood seeping from the shallow wound seems to blacken sable cotton even further as he whispers gently, breath tickling her ear._

_"Your love and hate for your executor now belong only to me… so free yourself from that maddening situation, little one. Only then will I stop despising you."_

_Then Ori is falling back to earth, landing painfully on her side as the leader vanishes in a swirl of wind. Nothing makes sense while her entire body feels like a log of wood, save for that bleeding gash. Dumbstruck by the turn of events, she feels like weeping and railing at the heavens for mocking her with his mercy. You… you betrayed my confidence… She stares into unperturbed red eyes, even as that one also takes his leave._

_What a waste of opportunity…but that gives time to extract the secrets of her clan. Kisame is quick to adjust and strides up to the unmoving figure._

_"Maybe we should just let Zetsu eat you, what with the mess you're creating all over the place."_

_A painful bout of coughing is his answer. The former Mist-nin isn't quick enough to avoid blood and saliva from staining his zori._

_"I don't… want your help."_

_Well-abraded enamel gleams in an amused smile, as the tall shark-like shinobi stoops down to the same eye level as her._

_"Then you're getting it."_

_"From one fellow artist to another, I'll help you for that music, un. Back off, Kisame, un."_

_Wha- Thought is interrupted by the dizzying shift from lying down to being handled like a trussed-up boar, as Deidara slings the dazed kunoichi about his shoulders. Sturdy arms lock her knees and elbows together, even as Ori starts shrieking in outrage at him._

_"Put me down! Assh-" Another bout of coughing wracks her chest and ends that tirade abruptly._

_"Your hair is now a fashionable shade of -"_

_"Stating the obvious again, Sasori-__danna__, un?"_

_Then the glade was empty once more._

_

* * *

_

"You know his offer still stands, un. Get the ring, un. That was the only stipulation, un."

"That's only the first test if I was serious about joining, much less qualified. No, thank you. Your leader creeps me out anyway."

"Such modesty, when I remember that your music could bring down a lot more than one house. It's not as if he ordered you to destroy the hidden village of Sound, un."

Her response was now much crankier.

"Taking the ring from Orochimaru increases the likelihood of a fight with him and his minions. Uchiha Sasuke was a deadly opponent; he must have improved tremendously by now. If I die, it's of no consequence. If I can even take the snake down with me, it's two birds with one stone. **He** works alone. Everyone else has a partner."

Deidara chuckled, ending with a sudden yelp as a pair of chopsticks landed painfully across his forefinger.

"As expected, of one whom he considers as potential replacement for any of us, un. However, if you didn't have a plan for maximising victory and minimising conflict, I'll be disappointed, un? You owe me a story of how you encountered and fought Uchiha Sasuke **(1)**… and I await the enticing possibility of us wearing the same cloaks, un."

"That story can wait. Besides, I like being a travelling musician. Peaceful, get to see the world, kill, gather information and disappear… the usual."

They sat there in companionable silence. The board was littered with various patterns; black and white pieces twisting, snaking and breaking to create their own intimate battle. Playing by candlelight and ensuring nourishment through lotus paste buns was not new to these two. Neither was telling stories while attempting to cheat on the sly.

"You never did tell me how you got that scar on your cheek, un."

"That isn't the least bit interesting. Fighting a certain sannin's student was the only fun I had, before your other two colleagues cornered me. I have yet to repay Sasori for his damned lies to your leader. All because of our little first encounter, when he became too curious about a stranger."

_Sannin? Not on friendly terms anymore, eh? Since when? This is intriguing._

"The encounter wasn't so little, when you immediately got up close and personal about hacking him to bits, un. Do tell about the sannin, un. There's still some tea in the pot, un."

Another black piece was laid to form a row of three. No problems countering that. He already had a seed blocking one end, but now he had to figure out what was the younger girl's latest strategy.

"It seems like it only happened yesterday, at the base of Myouboku Mountain. A particular loud-mouthed hothead was too nosy when I found him…"

* * *

"Why? They were only hindrances and an eyesore. I needed to test myself. So what, if you saved me? If you can kill me now, then we're even. No, actually we're not… you're a monster. People like you shouldn't exist!"

She doesn't care that her venom momentarily saddens Naruto. He doesn't know how to feel for her, when their beliefs and understanding of each other will keep missing the intended spaces, lost in the arrows of selective perception. Sadness is unearthed, to remember that last line being used to wound, many times in childhood. _People like you shouldn't exist!_

Looking at the boy's blue eyes, she is surprised to see that they are now softer, sadder… with a hint of damp? An expression crosses his face… a look that reminds her of a powerful but compassionate man. How she hates and envies this one, for being all she wanted to become.

"If we had met in another time and place, things could have been different. I might have willingly called you "friend"… but you've chosen a side and so have I."

Eyes the colour of the Nakano River now become strongly determined; calm pupils narrow to slit pinpoints. The black and orange-clad genin now radiates a maturity and authority that somehow reminds her of Hachi… Jiraiya… Raikage.

"For the sake of your family and village people who died, because of trusting your selfishness… I will defeat you."

His quietly confident conviction stuns her, as his hands move rapidly to use Kage Bunshin no Jutsu.

Staring at the multiple copies that enclose her within a small circle, their right hands are all drawing out shuriken from weapon pouches. The sword is quickly summoned.

Then she is weaving a mesh of gleaming movement about her, destroying offensive projectiles even as everything becomes a blur. As the assault ceases, she senses more enemy movement and spins sharply to the right. An intensely blue ball of chakra strikes the glowing blade, and the consequences of two different energies meeting send the two hurtling backwards, as upended soil and grass obscure visibility in the clearing. Their landing is brutally cushioned against gnarled bark.

Naruto's wrist is numb from the impact. Rubbing it hard, he can feel some feeling returning. He knows he must not get into close-range combat for too long, for she will doubtless increase speed and that combination will be fatal. _That must be the sword Ero-sennin mentioned… an average Rasengan saved my hand but her blade is somewhat similar to Sasuke's Chidori! Still, I have to find a way to stop her using that weapon._

On her part, Ori is cradling the left wrist with her right hand, stopping her sword arm from shaking further. Induced pain from the contact with that… thing causes her to flex the wrist in an attempt to reduce it. _What the hell is that? Must be some high-grade jutsu Oya-ji taught him, since I didn't see it while watching him fight in the chuunin exams that time… the force was powerful enough to nearly break my blade. If I hadn't increased it in time to sixty-five percent, I'd have bad injuries by now._

Glaring at each other so heatedly that if this battle was based on looks alone, both would be dead by now. Pulling themselves up once more, they both use Tajyuu Kage Bunshin no Jutsu at the same time. Duplicates of both parties appear and start fighting enemy clones using taijutsu with numerous kunai. Ori still retains the sword.

_Come on Naruto, you won't be able to resist attacking me directly with some assistance, now that I've made myself so obvious. _

He doesn't disappoint, as three look-alikes try to hit her. Slicing through two of them swiftly, she stabs the third one and feels a satisfyingly solid 'thunk' as she drives that one backwards into one of the training stumps.

Her smile fades away as with a small "poof", it appears that the blade has impaled a log with a multitude of explosive tags attached. _Kawarimi no Jutsu!_ Hurriedly dissipating her secondary weapon, the explosion still catches her enough to knock Ori off her feet. Forcefully halting herself, split-second detection makes her retreat to the left and backwards as a boy lunges out of the trees towards her.

For a moment, this frame of their battle seems to have slowed time down. The girl sailing backwards with wide-sleeved arms spread out on either side like a bat; a boy closing the distance between them with one arm outstretched, soaring towards her like a discus from the force of his propulsion. Fierce blue eyes are riveted on that spot just below her left collarbone, while dark eyes are transfixed by the approaching fist of condensed energy intent on punching through her chest.

Snapping out of the mesmerising sight of impending doom, survival reflexes hastily take over. Five fingers pull his right hand further to the side and leave him open, as she hooks one foot into his belt to gain leverage. The right leg comes up to knee him in the face, and with that blow the two are separated in opposite directions.

Rolling over twice before he comes to a stop, Naruto pants as he pulls himself to his knees. Already, a battered cheek is showing signs of bruising from that kick. However, he can see that his opponent is quite unsettled. The girl lying on her back is wide-eyed, touching and staring at a large charred spot on the front of her dull amber robes, where the heat from Rasengan has burnt through two layers of cloth to mar pale skin.

Wisps of black hair have come undone from her little braids, straggling down a fat ponytail as breathing seems to be suspended in her chest. The closest she's come to death, ever since fighting Hachi. The intention to die valiantly in defeat by Naruto's hands is complicated by pride-tinged-with-vanity surging to the fore.

_How dare he… Although I believed you have the capability of being Hokage, I didn't take you seriously enough as a threat. A mistake I'll rectify now._

Viciously jerking her head up, an expression reflecting instability and bloodlust settle on the genin who is pulling himself to his feet. Naruto is almost hypnotised by the overwhelming hatred. She has risen to one knee, left hand poised to the side once more as if to grip her sword. A low snarl is emitted between gritted teeth, bared whiteness disconcerting in a face distorted with some unidentified emotion. Her sword has reappeared but is no longer a gleaming grey. The chakra that the weapon is composed of has extended tendrils crackling dangerously around the sharp blade. Staggering intensity of escalating energy usage causes everything else not firmly stuck to the earth to fly off the ground.

"Uzumaki Naruto…"

The blatant aura of menace this one gives off is positively unsettling, coupled with the guttural mention of his name. The way those eyes have darkened so much that they seem like twin pits of emptiness… for a moment he surmises seeing her aura form the shape of a skull. The right hand is also gripping the hilt of that death-dealing weapon. Then this one is almost upon him, bringing that blade down upon the genin.

Damnit, he hadn't mastered Dodongo Rasengan! There is no time to dodge. Recreating Rasengan and imbuing it with as much power as he can, the genin shoves a huge sphere of blue energy towards her face.

Silver touches blue, melds into it… then slices like a hot knife through butter.

_I'm going to die-_ Naruto panics as he watches destructive sharpness bearing down on him. Eh?

A dizzying blur is followed by one dark blue wall colliding with his enemy and knocking her away into a tree, such that the trunk breaks into two. Glancing around wildly, he sees a familiar figure close by. Legs bent, palms outstretched as if warding off something…

"Ero-Sennin!"

Pale melon trimmings are ruined with dirt and bits of bark. Using the broken stump to slowly pull herself painfully to her feet, Ori stares uncomprehendingly at the man whom the boy is embracing. _What…why? I was so absorbed I didn't notice him, and something else…_ Fingering a cut lower lip, two rounded pads come away with dark splotches.

Remembering that weapon hardens grim lines in the elderly man's face. To summon the sword means using a fixed amount of chakra at one shot. She'd improved the Ujinobu technique by being able to vary the amount and shape of chakra being released over a period of time, judging by the build-up of power as she re-created a modified version of her sword. Hachi underestimated her, so he died. He pushes away the sickening gut feeling of self-loathing for admiring her development, to chastise her in disappointment.

"Your destiny may be ruined. Don't allow your selfishness to destroy his as well."

Further words are interrupted by the results of an orange-and-black-clad genin carrying out a familiar jutsu. Naruto has remembered what Jiraiya had said. _Ero-sennin did mention that something more powerful was used to cause that extent of destruction…_ Then he remembers her asking him a question from their first encounter. When he didn't know she'd been the evil perpetrator.

An enormous toad appears, polished pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth as moonlight gleams over thick reddish skin.

However, she's not far behind in summoning her own affiliated animal.

Blinking deceptively bleary eyes, Gamabunta stares at the large insect hovering in the air, with its summoner perched on the black skull between bulbous eyes of many lenses. A quarter the width of the ancient toad's girth but perpetually hunched over, it gives the impression of a malnourished old man. _Isn't that-_

"A mosquito?"

Naruto is puzzled at the choice of opponent for the gigantic amphibian.

In the meantime, a buzzing high-pitched sound like the whine of ten thousand fingernails scraping across glass addresses her harshly.

"Why… call me for this! Where's the offering of seventy-five sips of children?"

"Sacrifices are hard to come by nowadays. However, it's only fifty lives if all we do is talk. Not negotiable."

At the soft-spoken attempt of placation, her chosen familiar lapses into a sulk, wings flapping more agitatedly and causing the skeletally thin insect to rock up and down in the same spot.

Jiraiya has not seen this one before, but Gamabunta remembers only too well. Removing the apparatus from his mouth, he speaks quietly.

"Whatever you do, don't let the proboscis on that old friend touch or sting you."

Naruto questions why, even as he points out that toads easily catch insects like that one.

"The first of its species is far more dangerous. If he breaks into infinite smaller versions, they only suck blood. However in a swarm, cornered humans cannot survive. His piercing device not only induces slow-healing wounds on injuring, that sharp probing segment drains blood AND chakra. If he even brushes you with that…"

Murmuring coolness stirs dull amber mixed with pale melon, as vibrant orange and black is also ruffled.

Looking at the man and boy standing side by side, she knows what it is that provoked her emotional insensibility. Jealousy. _That's why you weren't there when I needed you, isn't it? A boy who is fated to be Hokage overshadows a lowly orphan who was expected at most, to be a high-ranking jounin. _

"Now I know why… Uzumaki Naruto… who drove away his teammate… who steals affection… who requires others to sacrifice themselves so his pathway to becoming Hokage is littered with broken bodies."

"That's not true!"

Even though her last phrase is a shot in the dark and betrays what he confided in her, it hurts Naruto more than he can imagine.

"I would love to stay and argue futility with you, but others are coming." Sarcasm drips off her words. Her shoulder hurts so much; it must have been dislocated. Her ribs aren't feeling much better. Jiraiya can sense intruders as well and he knows they aren't on his side, for he would have been notified beforehand by well-hidden wards.

"Don't pursue me, and I'll lead them away. Hokage, eh…. Get stronger."

He is unsure of what to say, until he sees his sensei nodding down at him.

"You have my word."

Both sides simultaneously acknowledge a ceasefire and their animal alliances return back to whence they had come.

"I take my leave."

With a slight bow, she disappears into the darkness.

"Wait!" shouts Naruto but there is no reply. Despite the rage and ill-will he bore towards her earlier, he still maintains some respect. Now he knows what to feel, and it's similar to that incident on the bridge with Tazuna-sama. Haku.

That look she gave, when she was about to kill him… so lonely. Trapped. Now he could feel something at last… Pity.

_

* * *

_

"He chose the boy, un?"

"The one whom I respected like a real relative, who treated me like kin when I was still a cloud-nin… chose a brat over me."

Bitterness was punctuated by dust trickling out from between tightly closed fingers. Deidara sighed. There went another piece that he had to replace.

"Anyway, there's something else about this one you would want to know. He's-"

The soft popping of the fifth clay pearl, on the west side of the third circle interrupted them again. Looking away from the chessboard to the additional attachment on the table, this palm-sized map invention of his was a handy warning device indeed.

"It seems your trespasser is getting closer without trouble. I'll take my leave."

That was one striking characteristic of the people he was comfortable with: wary loners who could respect others' spaces and rules. Rising to her feet, Ori smiled at the seated man. Shrugging on her cloak and doffing the straw hat, the koto was slung behind her back. She was confident of his ability to handle this situation if it turned nasty. After all, this was his playground.

"See you around, un."

His friend nodded, returned the sentiment, and left via the narrow opening in the rocks on the eastern side. Deidara knew that one would have no trouble handling/evading his traps. Ah well, maybe the next time they played, the game could actually be finished and break their tied score. For now though, he had some housekeeping to do.

_Alright, I'll get one memento of the idiot before sending that one off. _

Concealing himself in the shadows, and waiting... Crunching sound of grit was the signal.

Index finger resting on the button, he was about to take a picture when the person was recognized through the lens. _What's the asshole doing here? How did he know- Sasori-danna, why did you tell him about this place?_

"Stop hiding."

One hand removed the straw hat to reveal a dark head of hair. Blood-red coolness looked right at the other man.

Uchiha Itachi.

* * *

**A/N**: Sideline OC from a previous fic makes way for Uchiha Itachi to… do what with Deidara?

**Next**: Is Hinata worth adding to Sasori's puppet collection?

**(1)** denotes a little spin-off extra of itself. If you're curious about the fight between Ori and Sasuke, go to the "Skerries of Dreaming" link in my profile, click on it and follow the bunnyhole.


	3. Three for a girl

**Disclaimers:** Naruto series is copyrighted to Kishimoto Masashi. I'm not making money off this. Just indulging the imagination.

**A/N: **Hinata's choice of skill used here will be explained at the end. My thanks for the encouragement and as a result, one more pairing has been added… meaning this story may go for longer than initially expected.

**Three for a girl**

A hard slap against the flat surface of the end-piece sent his tail crashing into the wall.

Like a sentient thing, it yanked itself free of stone, showering Hinata with pieces of rock. Rolling sideways beneath the fierce stroke that would have lopped off her head if it had connected, she was vaguely aware that otherwise, he wasn't moving.

_Wait… now!_

Leaping up and curling into a ball, both legs came down with enough magnitude to force metallic sharpness deep into the ground, bending and immobilising it (approximately) at a lopsided forty-five degree angle.

"Ji-san, it's me! Hinata!"

She was not sure if he had heard her above the sound of numerous metal senbon being fired from the gaping cavity of his mouth. Dodging the dangerous projectiles and rapidly retreating backwards, the sight of a wooden cylinder studded with smaller ones flying towards her made one swerve to the side, while leaving definite skid marks. She could detect poison! Her hands were protected by intense chakra, but-

Pure instinct was blurted out –just before she created the protective blur of Shugohakke Rokujyuu Yonshou– as those protrusions were fired and split to release more senbon.

"Why are you attacking with your outer casing?"

Interesting. Her shield deflected everything? Excellent defence mechanism, but… He could see the chakra she was emitting, like beams of light moving to form a shield. That jutsu would require- He couldn't use the move even if she became a puppet because in the beginning process of doing so, the frequency of her preserved chakra would sever the connections of his control. But that wasn't the most fascinating aspect. Those eyes… they had seen through Hiruko.

Hm, time to switch to the more beneficial back-up tactic. Luckily he had only been testing the waters, so nothing was irreversibly damaged. Time for distraction.

"Hinata? I mistook you for an enemy, thus I was a little heavy-handed on you."

There was a series of snapping clicks, like numerous metal clamps being undone. The shell-like device on his back swung up and back, sudden loss of attachment allowing the limbs to sag. An apparently shapeless mass rose from two halves of the stout form.

"I am pleased that you came back for my name."

The black cloth covering this much taller, second entity was removed in one swift gesture and dropped.

"Sasori re-affirms your acquaintance."

It wasn't the name that kept her quiet. Hinata didn't recognise it. What had deprived her of speech was his appearance.

Uchiha Sasuke had been the palest male she had known. This man was his match. With a head of disheveled hair cropped to the neck and a hint of sweetness in neat features, he was… odd. He was lean, almost too thin. His eyes were the shade of clay baking in fire and were rendered more mesmerising with short, thick lashes, not forgetting dark hand-drawn outlines that blended in with his hair colour. Appearing to be sleepily inattentive, what with that half-lidded gaze, and coupled with seeming boyish innocence… The cultivated agelessness of tranquility told a different story.

He couldn't be older than Kurenai-sensei? But why did he remind her more strongly of their current hokage?

His smile was perhaps, the most jarring trait. There was something ugly about it, as if it was artificial. It seemed perfectly symmetrical, like the rest of his face. Or it could be because he didn't seem to mean it. But that wasn't the riddle. It was what she had glimpsed during that fight, of somewhat… oddly arranged chakra pathways. Retreating then to a less macroscopic level, what had also been sighted was some puzzling and scary anatomy. His bulky armour was no physical impedance to the clarity of her Byakugan. _What… are you?_

Hm. The girl was still too tense. He produced his reward while clarifying it non-offensively with "This is for you."

Eh? What was being offered was a metallic base twice as thick as her palm, half filled with sand and topped by a dome-shaped glass casing. The sand looked fairly normal, apart from a light tinge of luminous sparkle, similar to the inside of an oyster shell.

"Twelve basic seals are taught in the academy, if I remember correctly. Select one, form the appropriate shape and concentrating enough chakra to warm the palm, press firmly against the bottom."

His arm had not wavered. Hesitantly taking the object from him, she decided on "pig", did as he instructed, and gasped.

Grains shifting and rising to create the animal based on the seal, overall likeness was adorable. And now she knew what the subtle shine was for. Those tiny flakes had been elevated the moment she'd touched the base and were floating around, making it look magical. Like a toy she'd once received from her father, before Hanabi had been born, only more… wonderful. What was the underlying mechanism for this? He hadn't been lying about his trade after all.

But remembering the deadly assault, it was obvious that his skills encompassed far more than just childish entertainment. And he had much to explain to her about his form.

He had to admit… seeing pale cheeks flushed from the exertion of battling him, and constant change of emotion –that was all too transparent– on a normally solemn countenance, they only added to the strange urge compelling him to indulge generosity. So that he could continue pointless observations.

Watching the girl release her chakra, then try again with another seal to form another animal… such reactions were endearing. Mouth open in awe as an upside-down monkey was produced (with unabashed delight at her discoveries) it was all he could do not to react to her inner child. He was unaware that his expression had become wistful.

She was now looking at him rather oddly, and her stance was tense once more.

Sasori abruptly turned and walked back towards the center of the cave.

The slightest sound of muffled footfalls told him that she was following, and then he had to smile. Cruelty with one hand, kindness with the other and anyone would end up being confused enough to want clarification. Besides (if he had analysed her character accurately enough), she was not the type to attack someone from the back.

And the tiny part that whispered of hoping she would stay was ignored.

He sat down. She did so likewise, a comfortable distance to his left. Not too far so he wouldn't have to unnecessarily raise his voice, but not too close so that she could sufficiently react to any of his body movements.

Both did not speak, but watched the glow of the fire.

Hinata had to acknowledge that she had finally met her match where silences were concerned. His muteness was the type that nagged at you like a rash around the ribs, to say something to fill up the emptiness. It was also the most dangerous, because foolishness was so easy to reveal, along with secrets. Besides, he owed her an explanation. Before she decided to leave and permanently avoid him. Scary and intriguing at the same time, his mystery was utterly absorptive. And it had nothing to do with the man himself, which she had to acknowledge was attractive.

"I don't want to be rude, but… ah, er- there are some things I saw t-that… aren't normal about your body."

"Like?"

Should she go on? He was watching her expectantly and rather intensely, and did not improve the feeling of being a cornered rat.

"Did you make c-changes to your… self?"

She had seen through the cover of synthetic skin and into the modifications? Considering that he had not even revealed his current body, this girl… he might have to kill her. Oh, how he wanted to see through her eyes! One hand lay on top of a worn pouch next to him.

"Like- Like your back and arms?"

The flap was stealthily undone. Fingers grazed a particular scroll.

"Was it b-because of an a-accident?"

Maybe not. She might have unwittingly given him a way out. Chiyo baa-sama had always praised his storytelling skills. Then his hideout for experimenting on all those Sand shinobi had been found, and she had screamed at him for being an inhuman liar and attacked. Funny, how people could detest what they once adored.

Anyway, he had a tale to weave.

Hinata could not help feeling sorry for him. Whoever those enemies had been, they must be really vengeful. To constantly pursue and nearly kill him because of ancient feuding between past generations- His grandmother was talented, to be able to preserve his life, if not his limbs. And he had done what was deemed necessary to survive. Listening to vivid descriptions of skin grafts and mechanical patch-ups, it was no wonder that he considered himself frightening. Loathsome. And untouchable.

Losing so much of what naturally defined you as human had to be bad enough to change one's perceptions towards everything. Like making one inclined to lie for a living to be accepted. Listening to this much vulnerability made him more human. Not to mention wanting to lecture those who couldn't see beneath the surface… to him. And to know that some part of him desired conformation and confirmation from society stopped her questions.

Glancing at her, he had to restrain a grin. Mission accomplished. But satisfaction was somehow lessened by that peculiar frown on her forlorn face…

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

She had seen the look on his face alter slightly, when glancing at her. They were of the same ilk, people who could easily recognize constant pity from others… and resented it.

"I'm doing it to you. What I wouldn't want others to do to me."

Reaching out, he gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze and was about to retract it, when she returned the grip. He should not be responding to that small smile; much less maintaining a hold she didn't seem inclined to break off anytime soon. Where was the urge to let go, and where had this originally stupid impulse come from?

She thought his smile looked more beautifully real this time. And there was something she had to say.

"Your wrist may not be the same as mine, but the intentions behind your action… is the actual humanity that I identify with."

That nearly floored Sasori. Was he actually about to consider regretting the lies he just told her? Hadn't he done enough to eradicate foolish emotion? Even if he couldn't be the desired puppet prototype, this- The connection was broken.

Diversion. Distraction needed. Ball should be in her court.

"I've spent long enough talking about myself. It's your turn, Hinata. Tell me about yourself."

Did she have to look like a beached whale?

"Anything that you don't mind sharing. Your habits, mischief, what makes you happy, your friends…"

She sounded hesitant at first, as if unsure of what to say. Nodding at the right moments, making it look as if he was really paying attention and throwing in the odd question was highly convincing, as she went on. He had to give her credit though; despite all his maneuvering, she would not name her clan, much less give away that sacred portion of trusting honesty. Not that he cared. No. Absolutely not.

Anyway, it was the friends that interested him most, since they were probably shinobi and ones that might be worth noting to add to his collection.

"There's Kiba who adores his faithful dog, Akamaru. Shino likes insects that others don't. Neji-niisan helps me with my training. And, er…"

Pale cheeks were going red. The apparently nervous girl was starting to prod opposing forefingers together. He decided to give a not-so-subtle verbal nudge.

"And?"

"T-There's N-Naruto-kun."

A rather lengthy pause lingered on both sides. The inquisitor's voice had become softer and gentler. He didn't think it was possible to do so, but there was a first time for everything.

"Who is he?"

Now the girl was humming and hawing over the question, as if she'd been probed about her darkest secrets. Increasing stammers, deepening blush, twiddling fingers and downcast eyes… it told him everything he did not want to know.

Sasori of the Red Sands did not respond. One fist crushed a rough pebble into dust.

Seeing an absolute lack of expression in the pale face worried her. Had she said or done something wrong? One trembling hand reached for a linen-clad arm.

"S-Sasori-sama?"

Her touch on his wrist again was a lightning rod of clarification.

This was crazy. Their personalities were as similar as blood and dust. She was a possible enemy, a law-abiding kunoichi who was to try and kill criminals like himself if she ever found out; a girl whose world was inhabited by completely different convictions and goals… and she was only fifteen. That didn't prevent scalding bitterness, or being annoyed with a boy he'd never met (and if he did, he'd probably pulp the twit into mince). And even worse-

Red eyes looked away from chapped pink lips to glare at a stray bit of ash.

"Sas-"

"Just Sasori. There's no need to be so formal."

The coldness was bruising. Hinata wanted to reach out again but held back. Abrupt manner in which he'd jerked away from contact was a harsh and obvious-enough statement of rejecting her friendly attempts at understanding. But contradiction via the personal distance he was reducing, from his insistence of dropping suffixes JUST didn't make sense.

"Do you still have problems sleeping?"

His question surprised her. The way he cocked his head to one side was almost eerie, reminding her of his protective shell. Such a simple mannerism- She must be tired and paranoid. In this light, his unblemished skin had a look of somewhat mechanical deadliness to it- Alright, this definitely called for rest.

"Yes, but less so-"

"Then come. Relax by the fire, while I bore you with the boring ramblings of a silly man."

Amused detachment coloured the irony in his tone. Remembering the soothing play of cool fingers in her hair but still somewhat put off by newly-understood weirdness of this man… the tinny whine of neuroticism was quashed as scooting towards him, she finally lay on her side, head cushioned by one folded arm, on top of the black cloak he had laid out much earlier.

Powdery dry firmness gently massaged her scalp, as the adult wove a tale of strangeness from nowhere. His voice was like the fluid ripples of a pebble thrown into the lake. Of glittery butterflies born from clay, and steel sand grains that could form all sorts of shapes… where did such unearthly fantasy come from?

"Is it real… or false…"

Looking down at drooping eyelids, a sardonic smile curved thin lips while a hand closed around the nape of her neck.

"Oh yes. Every bit of it was experienced."

Warm fingers enveloped his.

"Tell me where all this comes from… teach me a secret…"

His grip became less purposefully crushing as his puzzlement increased. This gullible girl was about to pass out. He could not help but ask in disbelief at her childishness. Did she actually trust him?

"Are you serious?"

That annoying hand reached up for him.

"So you'll… stop hiding? Yes… promise…"

Avoiding it, he moved behind and stretched out alongside the girl, automatically staying a hands-width apart and leaving her arm suspended in mid-air. Sasori did not know if that last word was a question or answer. The offensive limb returned to her side. There was silence for a while. He lightly touched her shoulder to see if she was asleep.

And his fingers were lazily transferred from padded hardness to sloping softness of her waist.

He froze.

Eventually, he inched towards her until he could feel natural warmth. There was a queer churning feeling in his non-existent belly when she spooned herself closer against him. Her hand still covered his, and did not resist when he guided his palm to rest over her stomach. Propping himself up on one elbow, unblinking eyes observed unchanging relaxation. Her lashes were so black that they appeared to have been drawn with bold strokes, just like the clearly defined outlines of a small nose and vulnerable li- He caught himself being inane again.

"Hinata?"

Slight tilt of her face towards him enabled Sasori to see her full profile. He lowered his head, straining his hearing to catch a murmur.

"Mm?"

And all was lost to foolishness once more. Noting the peace that seemed to shroud her, he was shivering at the close proximity of their lips, along with the mortifying bliss of calm that could not be justified, as she snuggled more trustingly against him. Transfixed by the specimen of flawed humanity that she was, yet he despised every moment in which he could not overcome this asinine fascination. Every nerve seemed to have ceased functioning, as breathing became long-drawn and almost non-existent. Lashes framing dull red eyes did not waver, facial expression even more rigid as the head pillowed against his chest shifted again, her nose now rubbing the thin material of his shirt.

Four fingers curved and mimicking the opposing thumb in a claw-like gesture, his hand reached for her throat… and morphed into loosely cupping fingers lined up together, stopping short of actually making contact. A clenched fist was formed, and then withdrawn as his whisper –with a hint of gritted teeth– was uttered.

"I promise."

The only response was a mild motion of her head that could have passed for a nod.

He did not care.

In an embrace of hazy shadows and mellow glow of warmth, darkness and light seemed to melt into each other, without either side losing or gaining.

There would be an inevitable conclusion, when the puppeteer recovered lethal strings of self-protection. Until then, Sasori was content to watch over the preservation of another moment… that he could not control.

Lies always made everything go down easier.

* * *

**Next up: **Itachi & Deidara have something to settle.

**A/N: **Hinata's skill comes from the anime filler eps, which I know may not necessarily be considered as part of the manga. However, not yet knowing whether Kishimoto will allow Hinata's character to master Hakkesho Kaiten like Neji… I needed a skill she would have been sufficiently good at, hence the choice here.

Glossary

Hiruko- Sasori's preliminary & favourite puppet casing, which acts as a battle suit.

Senbon- Long metallic needles, normally used in healing procedures or as weapons, like Haku did.

Shugohakke Rokujyuu Yonshou- Guardian of the Eight Triagrams: Sixty-four Strikes.


	4. Four for a boy

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or profit from Naruto, I merely pay tribute to Kishimoto-san.

**A/N: **Thanks for feedback. Large paragraphs of italics denote flashbacks. I decided to try and give Deidara a bit of a past, such as why he has that hide-out back in chapter 2. IMO, "Suzaku no Sora" by Rurutia was a fitting piece of music for Itachi & Deidara.

**Four for a boy**

This was crazy. Such a convivial truce could not last. It would end, just like how it had begun.

**(1)**A few months back, four members had met in one of many unimportant villages. All handled the situations in their trademark fashions. Being separated from his stronger colleague in the ensuing mayhem as planned, Deidara got stuck with Itachi. While searching for a place to rest, he had found out and taken pity on that one's deteriorating eyesight in the cave (as they waited for their respective partners to finish collecting the necessary information about their jinchuuriki).

The morning after, it was back to business as the assigned pairs regrouped. That still didn't explain the strange bond, which had developed during a night of silence and sporadic conversation. Humour without the thorns. Honesty without webs of deceit and misdirection.

Deidara did not like this. Comfort derived from that one's presence made it oddly disturbing. So had the feeling that something lingered, unfinished and demanding to be fulfilled.

But in this moment of invaded solitude, now was not the time for such thinking…

Which was exactly what the other Akatsuki member was also doing too much of. Itachi did not like being distracted. This subject was everything he did not need, and it was entirely Sasori's fault. After that rather destructive information-gathering mission, unintentional meeting up at the home base for being reprimanded could not be avoided. It was what he didn't like, being further tempted with someone who had intrigued him… in a dangerous way. Fate seemed to be playing a double game of enticement and exasperation.

There, he had seen the puppet master converse and interact with Kisame in a friendly manner that he did not approve of. Somehow, those two must have formed an indefinable connection while Deidara and him had been separated from them. **(2)**A short, terse exchange of hostility afterwards _–_between two possessively dominant personalities_–_ could not be avoided. Answers had been less than satisfying, while raising more niggling questions inside.

"Boys aren't interesting, Itachi. Men are."

"Find someone else to bait and manipulate, Sasori."

"Indeed? As long as leaves do not infringe on unrelated territory… of Stone and Sand."

Warning condescension was threateningly obvious.

That had sent Itachi into a foul mood and upon later encountering the actual source of frustration… he'd taken it out on Deidara in an empty corridor rather forcefully with his taijutsu. That had somehow led to a dream of sexual impossibility in the underground library **(3)**, another stolen but much lengthier exchange of- Describing their dynamics was too fucked up. Just like their parting of ways. What was happening?

Inner confusion was further compounded, when Kisame told him where to find Deidara a few months later. He knew Sasori must have told the Mist-nin, but for what purpose? So that he could further delight in punishing Itachi by offering such torment? What Kisame and Sasori were up to, or were doing together didn't matter; it was not as important as his current objective.

"Itachi-san, Deidara-san's back at his personal hide-out trying to come up with a plan for handling his jinchuuriki. Last thing he needs is to be incurably distracted, which is now affecting his concentration… as Sasori-san mentioned while inquiring after your health."

One troubled Uchiha had given in to the confusion. He needed some form of clarification, understanding… insight as to why he did what he was doing now: By actually acknowledging that Deidara's presence had some worth. So he had given in to some stupid instinct to go hunting for someone who probably despised him even more than before.

His objective was standing on an uneven spot overlooking a steep ravine, while invisible tendrils of moving air ruffled thick linen. From his higher perch, Itachi surveyed jagged towers of rock that stretched up into unending blueness and also extended far below into a sea of plumy foam.

That lone figure on the protruding wedge had both hands stretched out, red butterflies leaving open-mouthed palms to flutter across limitless space… and continue a pointless dance above suspended doom. Random shafts of sunlight illuminated the artificial insects flitting in and out of their warmth, painting blobs of bloody clay in an unknown struggle against their conclusive fate.

This solemn personage did not resemble the shinobi who had fought by Itachi's side during that night of gathering information. It was a gleeful destroyer relishing each moment of destabilising chaos, which had drawn the Sharingan bearer's ire and interest. It was as if he had touched the pulse of fire, in turn being corrupted and heating the blood, his besmirched soul singing of godless euphoria, as an innocent evil with blue eyes and biting wit goaded him into recklessness.

And this complete opposite of such behaviour still enticed, beckoning with a paradox that the Stone-nin's personality presented.

"Are you going to quit being afraid of being around me at some point?"

The sneering taunt stung unexpectedly, and reduced the distance between the two. Leaping down onto the narrow stone path and intrigued by the odd tone in the other's voice, the taller man nimbly found his way onto the same ledge. Stopping behind Deidara's left shoulder, he could fully see mountainous arms of slate-gray rawness encircling and looming over them. Humbled into tiny insignificance before silent majesty, enjoying the chilly bite of unceasing wind… poised on the edge between life and death. There was a smile of vagueness adorning the face of the artist, gifting usually cunning features with rare sweetness. Itachi thought the gesture looked more like an embrace, or reaching for something beyond his comprehension…

"Your brother should be yours to really fight, not swallowed by that snake bastard, un."

A voice filled with indescribable hoarseness prompted his companion into asking what he was doing.

"A tribute, un… to the only one I didn't blow up…"

* * *

_Never had she hurt him._

_Watching the panting woman scrabble down treacherous rock, a deep scarlet trail gave her away. He gave her time to choose her ending, before following the staggering figure onto that large slab of rock. Satisfaction always accompanied plans that worked completely._

_She obeyed the same rules of honour that he did. No one else came with her quest for revenge. Not into this place that had always been their secret playground, a hideaway from the world. This moment was theirs to savour, as always._

_Leaping lightly onto the gritty surface, possible escape was cut off. Waiting, as she turned to face him. Dirty blonde hair matted with dust and sweat, her bedraggled figure bore multiple burns and gashes as he heard that familiar endearment._

"_Otouto, un…"_

_She had used that with glowing pride on those occasions when he'd graduated from the academy, came back from missions, created and improved the family's artistic capability…and reminding him that a shinobi must not show emotion in battle._

"_Nee-sama…your turn, un."_

_Remembering the numerous times since childhood that they'd given way to each other when it came to sharing sweets, being pushed on the swing, playing cat and mouse with a jigsaw puzzle as the prize… hugging him before he went to sleep every night._

_She was staring at the tan hawk resting in his hand; its head cocked to one side as her every move was coldly observed. He'd become powerful, so much more than they could have imagined. He'd even surpassed her, the supposed genius of the family. Even now, the way he was looking at her… _

_He could not know that there was so much she wanted to say; especially when there'd been one gift she had prepared for celebrating his birthday with the family. Then he'd taken it all away… Creating a special projectile behind her back with one hand, while part of her rejoiced, the other half wept._

"_Always secretive, un. Not trusting anybody… not even me, un. Why did you do it, un?"_

_Stepping closer, he was shaking his head while replying as if to a stranger._

"_What good is such a question, when one is about to die, un?"_

_The way violet-blue eyes rested on her kneeling figure as she pushed herself to stand, then flickered towards emptiness cradling her back before returning… calculative maturity masked the only sibling she had known. If only, to find him one last time… she hurled the forged sphere as he flexed his wrist to launch the bird._

_Meeting his intentions head-on, that explosion momentarily blocked the sight of each other in a cloud of neutralisation._

_As it became clear, he saw little red, shining things hovering in the air. Her favorite- How had she done that? The sphere would be too small to contain this number of them! What attacking device did they possess? They spelled his name… or at least part of it. Some lay in blackened pieces on the ground._

_She was smiling at him, translucent emotion dripping down her tanned face. Happiness marred with sorrow… Hands were outstretched, as if bearing the bond that still tied them together._

"_Nee-chan would never hurt you, un. The older protects the younger as they are born, un… happy birthday, Deidara…"_

_Stepping backwards into space, she was gone._

_Running forward, he barely stopped in time to watch the plummeting entity disappear into strong currents far below._ _Not believing his eyes, he whirled around in time to see glimmering beauty crumble into nothing._ _He had accomplished his goal. Not moving from the spot, staring at unchanging landscape. Willing the tears not to fall…_

_Nee-chan, you liar… you said you'd never hurt me…and now you've broken your promise…_

_

* * *

_

Deidara's smile had a brittle quality about it, as if in response to what he was thinking. The shorter man give nothing away, apart from biting the lower lip until a thin trail of blood ran down his chin. He did not even wince, unblinking eyes fixed on creations that were crumbling into red dust… falling into the love of nothingness.

"Fighting your brother is a sacred promise between two siblings, un. Every second, every shared reaction… unforgettable completeness that irrevocably haunts and shapes you…"

Dull hollowness in his words was displaced in the next instant by his usual tone and a sly grin. Turning, he walked past the other person.

"Enjoy the scenery, un? I must be getting back- And get out of my way, un."

Itachi finally let him pass.

Listening to fading footsteps, the other brooded over vast spaciousness until the sun began to set.

And not all his thoughts were the usual about Madara and Sasuke.

* * *

It was an evening of awkward silence that bloated until one of them could not stand it. So it turned into a drinking game of sorts, with each taking turns to ask random questions and being penalised with more drinking if the opposite party answered the question correctly.

"That's enough, Deidara."

Drinking to excess was foolish. Besides, he did not appreciate fools. It only increased the chances of having to exterminate them before one could perish in irritation. The Sharingan user could almost swear that this companion was partially acting the part of a self-pitying moron to annoy and drive him out. He'd put a stop to the charade.

A sake bottle shattered against the sandy floor.

The Uchiha managed to dodge all exploding projectiles hurled his way, before swiftly intercepting a fist, a kick and then returned chakra-concentrated sentiment. Right into the midsection.

Seeing the shorter man stiffen with coughing and a thin trickle of blood start to trail past pale lips, Itachi was about to move towards him but sudden hostility batted his hands away.

"Get lost, un! You disgust me-"

Slamming Sasori's partner against the wall was rather satisfying. Hopefully, some form of sensibility had been hammered in as well. One hand wrapped around the throat and the other holding a kunai against the abdomen guaranteed no struggle. For now. There was only so much nonsense that could be endured. This… man was infuriating enough to make him react. Winter could not be colder than the tone of the interrogator.

"How do I disgust you?"

No answer.

Tense knuckles whitened as more maiming strength was exerted.

Something was somewhat rushed and mumbled, inducing Itachi to automatically lean closer while turning his head slightly. And vicious snapping of teeth nearly removed his left ear.

That resulted in Deidara having an abruptly painful acquaintance with the floor. Bloodied lips parted to emit a strangled gasp as sharp metal impaled his left palm.

"You test my patience."

"Don't touch me, asshole!"

No movement from either individual. Then the kunai was ripped out, leaving an indent in dusty rock.

"Enjoy making me bleed all over the ground, you bastard, un?" sneered the man who showed no sign of pain, even as his fingers flexed and stopped repeatedly.

"Hm. Not really."

Bending over, knee on knee, almost nose to nose, the pause was almost audible in breathing. One shaky, the other cool but becoming slightly erratic. Wisps of dark hair tickled the other's throat with touch. Firm, resolute, yet sensing something on the verge of collapse that wasn't weary muscles, it was starting to test the narrow-eyed stare held between two pairs of widening eyes. Lips parted as the one above exhaled, causing the other to swallow nervously. Watching each other like coiled cobras, yet the sentiment was off. In that split second, something flashed like a spark that might have been passionate, ruthlessly greedy and left wanting for more. Almost soft and suddenly violent and slowly prolonged like repeated blows from waves pounding against the shore in a feverish caress that devoured and bloodied all else into a guttural rush of sublimation, if ever the chance came to pass…

The proximity, the stillness, the feeling was… incredibly annoying.

Swiftly rising and gathering cloth in his fist, Itachi hauled the other up and in the wink of an eye, shoved him savagely towards the wall again.

The expected impact never came. That one's punching bag was slowly released in the last few seconds, and gently allowed to slump against gritty support. And curled fingers slowly straightened, followed by a step back. And another. And then turning on his heel, Itachi strode out.

There was no response. What began inexplicably should end as it'd started… in silence.

Deidara pretended he didn't feel that minor disturbance almost smoothing down rumpled cloth before exiting, which was more tender than a non-existent breeze. He might have gotten away with it, if a parting murmur had not reached his ears.

"We're idiots."

Remembering those distinctly haunting eyes, as dark as the shadows that had lovingly suffocated him as he endured his first night as an Akatsuki member until the incoming rays of the morning… He could not tell Itachi that there was something he wasn't confident about; there was an oddly persistent feeling that somehow… He wanted him to stay a while longer.

That did it. How cloyingly nauseating. How could he have been weak around the man who'd had him inducted into Akatsuki, by defeating him in a humiliating manner? He got as far as the door, and then stopped. Retreating, he went around the room like a whirlwind, gathering up necessities while deciding to head for his next mission earlier than usual. He had to fight the strange weakness in his knees. Heading for lesser confines and creating a hawk as his escape hatchling, he shouldered past the unmoving shinobi whose back was to him. He really wanted to bestow unforgettable bruises. Must. Keep. Detesting- Why couldn't that asshole have stayed a cold, condescending bastard who ignored most people, especially to him? The night in the cave, the moments in the underground passage- All rubbish. And as he leapt onto the back of his latest creation, the Uchiha heard something almost intangible but heated in the fading wind from those wings.

"Damn you- You freak!"

There was no pretty goodbye, or drawn-out conclusion. But remembering the brief look on a no-longer-smiling face, eyes the colour of morning glories falling into the sea… such undeniable sorrow seemed to splinter something inside. He almost might regret lying to that one back then, about the motive for dying by Sasuke's hands. But Madara must not suspect anything, by preventing any possible leaks for that one's conclusions.

A glimpse of achingly rare vulnerability had nearly undone him… made the one left behind want to reach out and recapture assuring firmness, of mischievous laughter and quiet understanding in a cave that reminded him of being gloriously alive.

Had Deidara wanted to say something else? And what would he have replied with? Probable impossibility that had no place in this world… In their world. Which had never existed. But for their prism of time, everything had felt so peacefully unshakable.

For which he would not forgive or forget the other man.

If anybody was to kill that one, there was only one allowable possibility that could be tolerated.

Eyes opened to reveal spinning black flames in a blaze of raw, consuming redness. A terrifying warning to any shinobi who saw him -especially a foolish little brother whose eyes he would have- of deadly fires made flesh.

Uchiha Itachi.

* * *

**Next up**: Sasori is determined to have a conclusion, no matter the cost. But will it be what he or Hinata expects?

The parts bolded with numbers denote expansions in greater detail on that part, all found at the "Skerries of Dreaming". If you are interested, go to my profile, click on the link for it and follow the bunnyhole.

**(1)** The fighting styles of 4 Akatsuki members and ties that form, in the mission with no name.

**(2)** Sasori and Itachi have a conversation… dipped in age-old poison (Various possible Akatsuki-pairing implications, such as Sasori x Itachi)

**(3)** What Itachi and Deidara learn… in the library of the Akatsuki home base. (100 word smut drabble)


	5. Five for silver

**Disclaimers:** Naruto series is copyrighted to Kishimoto Masashi. I'm not making money off this. Just indulging the imagination.

**A/N: **Possible sexual misuse of chakra, and a suitable song for Sasori and Hinata would be "Itoshigo yo" by Rurutia.

**Five for silver**

Her friend was in a queer mood. Quiet, but the way he repeatedly cracked his knuckles and the ghastly cricking sound produced… he seemed almost agitated. His armour lay by his side, and his cloak was spread out in front of the fire. Once again, she was somewhat aware of a disturbing mystery whose answer she could not quite grasp.

Why had she agreed to return? Sitting on the opposite side, Hinata didn't know. All she knew was that he intrigued her. Confusingly secretive and yet kind in his own way- Something was wrong though, and it permeated the air of this cave, like milk that had been left in the open too long and soured.

But he had promised, and it was the truth and strength of that gesture which led her here. She would not refuse the friendship he was extending. It would have been rude.

Restlessly flexing smooth fingers, Sasori had never been in a quandary he couldn't solve… until now.

_Are you insanely stupid? Why are you here? Didn't the previous near-death experience teach you __**anything**__?_

How he yearned to show her. Teach her the truth of what he was, and then snuff out her annoying existence. She had no appeal- No, no worth as a puppet. But he could not bring himself to give away that secret. He inexplicably did not want this one's disgust, or terror, or… dislike. What he hankered for was something that made the subconscious shriek, but its warning was too faint to be comprehended.

Hence, he would offer her the chance to decide her outcome.

"I said I would show you something hidden. Do you wish to learn about life, how to craft a toy, or… what do you want?"

Why are you so difficult to understand? Each time I think I might know you better, you keep putting up walls to keep me away_…_ Pondering his question, the seconds ticked by.

"Ah, er…"

One hand discreetly rested over the front of his shirt, causing him to bunch up dark blue material that was being gripped too tightly.

"I ask for what you're comfortable in giving. Impart what you think both of us would value. A lesson you don't mind-"

She could not have used a worse choice of words.

"Give what you want."

Rising to her feet, flickering tongues of light danced across a thoughtful expression that only conveyed bashful kindness.

Sasori was equally quick to stand, pacing around the ring of burning wood to her side. Such innocent honesty excited something long dormant inside, challenging current intentions and spurring him to give in to that rare, reckless aspect. He would prove to himself that the core of weakness had been erased.

Hinata had never seen him so alive, so unpredictable, and so threatening. It induced her to step back slightly, and then inch towards the opposite side.

He now stood in front of the girl, shifting to face and follow her movements like a shadow.

"Then they are things I could teach you, but none of them are safe. Is your curiosity that strong?"

Incidentally, she thought his voice was gentle and soothing, filling the space with the caressing skeins of refined silk. Was his hair as soft? What? Did I just-

"Y-You could be exaggerating. I-I…I don't know what the options are yet. H-How can I make a choice?"

Sidling around the fire, she was acutely aware of his seemingly lazy actions. Not near enough to panic, but not far enough for comfort. Definitely restrictive enough to keep her back pressed against the wall.

"I tend to be precise. And I can guarantee it would be unforgettable."

A ledge of rock jabbing into Hinata's elbow told her she would have to step forward for more maneuvering space. And that would require coming into contact with him. Were they still talking about the same subject? What was he thinking about? She hoped her face wasn't too red.

"S-shouldn't I be making a choice?"

The rest of the words died in her throat. He was looking rather queerly at her. As if she was the only thing in existence… This indefinable stress was too much. She wanted to stay. And she wanted to leave. Both hands shot up to push him away.

Her rejection was intolerable. And it modified his immediate aims.

Cold fingers clamped around her wrists as he bent down. Looks were indeed deceptive; he was a lot stronger than surmised! White met red, and stayed. She could clearly see the defined rings of his irises. Reaction was frozen by the implications of seductively uttered softness that brooked no further questioning.

"Would I give you the choice?"

_He- I- Why-_

She was stiff as a rock. Her lips however, were not. A lot more pliant and from such body language, it was clear she'd never been kissed. It was a glaring oversight in her education that he would thoroughly rectify. Sucking on her lower lip, then running his tongue across damp softness induced her mouth to open. That was all the invitation he needed.

The bashful leaf-nin was dimly aware of mild tenderness against her lips, before it became overpowering confusion that she couldn't define. He didn't feel as cold or hard as she had thought he would be. Barely noting the pressure of his hands on her as they pulled her closer, then it was no longer about thinking. Tasting. Feeling. Wanting. Trembling hands fisted within dark blue cotton, dragging him closer. Not that he was protesting, his own actions being somewhat similar to hers. Teaching her, while learning how to best elicit the desired response from this one… he pulled back.

If she didn't have his support, Hyuuga Hinata might have collapsed on the spot, since her knees no longer seemed to be working. Neither did her lungs or her brain. And all he had done was give a kiss. A finger tilted her chin up, and she looked into pupils that were a darker shade of blood.

"Show me what you've learnt… and maybe we'll stop."

Sasori himself sounded somewhat strained. Was he offering a definite end to confusion? Her frazzled mind refused to analyse. Closing her eyes for a split-second, she took a deep breath before complying.

If anything, it only further complicated matters.

Poised on tiptoe against the unyielding length of his body, ignoring all other abnormalities she had noted of him, the persuasive manner in which his lips were creating new sensations she was previously oblivious to… Progressing further was the preferred option.

It wasn't as if she was the first person he'd kissed. Why was he reacting as if it was **his** first kiss? Wait, what was he doing? Hauling her closer until the barrier of cloth didn't make much difference, he buried his face against the cool softness of her throat, inhaling the faint scent of dust and soap. Stopping was out of the question, the moment she reciprocated for the second time. One arm slipping about her hips and the other around her back, he lifted and carried her back to his cloak in a few strides. Relieving her of her vest was not difficult. Until he saw her shaking her head as if trying to clear it, or convince herself of something. Furtive biting of her lip, skin of the forehead taut, fingernails digging into the flesh of the other hand… Moist bloodline-tainted eyes only further betrayed her inner agony and doubt.

He knew, just like she did. It was an unspoken name that defined their boundaries, not that it would have made much difference to him. Lifting calloused fingers to his lips and kissing them, his other hand pressed a palm now indented with pink crescents against his chest.

"Touch and taste. Nothing more."

To see that pleasingly shy smile, one that haunted his few dreams until he refused to sleep so that such banality would stop invading his privacy… He pulled her into his embrace again.

It was no longer a reality she recognized. Gentle hands that seemed to enjoy the texture of her skin, intense passion that she returned as new responses awakened under his tutelage… his body was so warm. And hard. And less heavy then she expected.

It was a discovery he delighted in, cradling supine flesh against his torso as his tongue invaded her mouth. Hearing her muffled whimper was delicious, small hands trailing down his back dug into wrinkled linen as she surrendered to persuasive seduction.

Short, sweet kisses like momentary satiation of thirst; long possessive kisses that hinted of alluring peril… Barely audible sighs (as she could not hold back the effect of his ardour) and soft exclamations (as her fingers stroked his jaw) mingled into an intimately sultry duet. Teasing nips, lingering nibbles, increasing rapture that inflamed nerve endings… She would be daringly inquisitive, before he displayed the necessary details that she reciprocated.

Except for one instance.

Intercepting fingers that threatened to stray beneath his clothing, Sasori re-positioned them about his shoulders. Firmly.

"You don't want to go there."

Opening her mouth to question the anxious tone in that statement, it was stopped by his.

Did he fear what others might think… so much? Implicitly caving in to him, she allowed the potent drug of knowing hands and seemingly fevered lips to erase the query from her mind, while keeping both hands on top of worn fibre. The heat of his touch seemed to burn through two layers of cloth, as he stroked the swell of her hips, teasingly rubbing small concentric circles up and down her thighs. Running her fingers through his hair felt so natural, so reassuring…

Tracing the barely visible outline of a rib down to her navel with his lips and sucking hard enough to leave blotches, listening to the girl struggle futilely to control her breathing patterns was glorious. Bruised yearning that he had left on her throat drew his attention once more, causing him to move upwards while keeping their bodies pressed together, until he found what he was looking for. The pleading manner in which she exposed her neck, allowing better access kept him enthralled. Nipping and licking at her quickening pulse –which was almost hypnotic– teeth closed over skin that scarcely protected the jugular vein and windpipe. Bite down hard, and she would lose consciousness. Bite down harder, and he would spill coppery-sweetness that fuelled her humanity- No.

He drew back.

This girl had no idea how she tried his resolve. Lips parted to protest his actions, cheeks flushed with invoked desire, smokiness veiling those unique eyes additional invitation to the confusion evident… Clamping down on inner demons that urged him to indulge heavily diluted cruelty was staggeringly terrible.

Cool fingers cupped his cheek.

"Sasori, what's wrong?"

Forcing a smile, he said nothing. Besides, he wanted to see more. To study earthly beauty of her limbs, to know the elusive contours of her personality, to bask in this pleasure… he would claim as much as he could, even if an irritating specter named Naruto was entitled to the rest of her.

Broad hands closed over her breasts.

There was a startled exhalation, even as he heard her embarrassed mutter.

"I- I… I'm not… very… big…or c-curvy…"

A husky chuckle did not alleviate her insecurities as thoroughly as his words.

"That makes two of us. You have no idea how much I want from you."

Sweetly conforming to the palm of his hand, aureole a dark rose pink… It was time to demonstrate nerve endings that had been sadly neglected and bolster her confidence.

Lowering his head, Sasori kissed the tiny mole between both breasts. Hearing a small squeak —which sounded like delighted puzzlement— interrupt girlish laughter, a reluctant smile touched his lips. Warm breath ghosted over each nipple in turn, before he decided to be truly attentive. One thumb started stroking the inner slope of rounded temptation, circling a stiffening pink tip while tentatively kneading what was cupped.

Grasping one of her hands, he began sucking one finger. And then another. His gaze never wavered from her face. Noting the display of inner conflict now evident on her face, desire warring with restraint and increasing raggedness of her breathing… and then he decided to focus on her breasts.

The relentless manner in which his mouth was tormenting aroused flesh triggered an unstoppable cascade of tingly sensations to other parts of her body, especially lower down. On one hand, she needed more that she didn't quite know about; on the other hand, wasn't there supposed to be some definitive limits to all this-

"S-Sasori-"

Squirming wasn't really a problem but if she kept rubbing against him, it would lead to one that he would have trouble containing… even in his current state. Clearing his throat did nothing to ease the huskiness.

"What is it?"

"I-there-I-Itches… hurts…maybe…"

She was definitely not helping his self-control. One hand rested at the waistband of cumbersome black pants.

"Do you want to make it better?"

"Y- yes… No! I-"

This stirred memories of almost a lifetime ago. She didn't know how to ask for relief, did she?

"Your honour won't be compromised-"

His fingers eased linen slightly lower, before delving past more easily torn material to toy with dark curls.

"Trust me."

Her smile seemed to unleash an invisible arrow, causing a sudden constriction and odd breathlessness within his lung-less chest.

"I do."

One finger, then two… Slowly, carefully, he was attuned to every nuance of her body language as both fingers were immersed until they could go no further, and stopped. Seeing the changes in expression was gratifying, the way facial muscles tightened until something akin to evinced amazement relaxed them. Chakra was channelled to those fingers, and the concentration was slowly increased as he sought the right amount and intensity to use.

Sudden burying of her face against his chest surprised him.

"Hinata?"

Youthful vulnerability peppered every hesitantly shaky word.

"I- Is it wrong… or improper to like all this? To even do this?"

Whispering into indigo strands, he clasped her closer.

"Why should you refuse the normal urges of your body?"

Sensitivity had increased, but in the most amazing way. It was as if there was a bridge being established between two types of chakra, flowing through all the pathways of her body (while massaging every nerve) and back into the source of excitement. This was almost frightening, to crave and have part of him inside such a private place… yet still yearn for more. Despite all that she'd been taught of right and wrong, of sin and sanity…

"Because we're not-not-"

Forceful fingers gripped her chin and made her look up at him.

"I assure you, I'm not violating the marital rights established between husband and wife."

She wanted to believe him. She wanted- His lips pressed against hers once more. Bare forearms clutched him closer, as he began appeasing woken demands of the body beneath his.

Panting and intermittent gasps were music to his ears, varying degrees of writhing against him providing sufficient feedback about each movement of his fingers. Gently stroking up and down inside her with both fingers scissoring apart, rotating from side to side with each discreet twist of his wrist… then the two actions were combined in a continuous corkscrew motion while increasing applied force and speed.

Closing her eyes as he nuzzled the side of her neck, a sigh was cut off mid-way as he kissed her possessively. It had become almost second nature. Repeatedly arching into his hand, his tongue in her mouth was also coaxing her to respond in kind. Loosely bracing her legs about his hips, she was dimly aware that the arresting rhythm of his fingers and tongue were in sync with the supplicating motion of her thighs.

Never had he expected… it was still possible that… Sasori could feel himself shiver in unbidden response to the raw enthusiasm of this girl. Repeated swell and ebb of her chakra in all branches had become effortlessly natural, and was accurately reflected in the manipulation of his energy control. Pulling and keeping the web of interconnected power thin and taut, he maintained the highly suppressed levels while continuing the physical actions. It was ready to completely let go, for she was about to- Pinning her down completely with the full weight of his body, he sucked hard on her tongue while brutally shoving slippery, chakra-strengthened fingers into her one last time.

For a moment, the world seemed to swim in a breathlessly dreamy starburst of colour.

Both breasts were covered with a faint sheen of moisture, oddly achy from his devotion. Unmoving limbs felt like languorously amorphous jelly, as he eventually moved off her and collapsed onto his back while pulling her on top. Cuddled in the assurance of his arms, she did not know why she was trembling. That had been… indescribable. It was something special that she did not need to fear, between this man and herself. Better than going fishing with Kiba, or training herself into exhaustion, or-or… seeing Naruto smile at her?

"Sasori…"

"Hm?"

Damp fingers lightly traced an invisible line around her neck.

"I… It was… Thank you."

Twitching lips curved upwards, before they broke into a smile. Carefree laughter punctuated his reply, further enhancing his charm and… he had never been more handsome. Or heart-breaking.

"Hn. It was nothing."

While listening to amusement that held no scrap of secrets or hidden meanings, it was another moment she had no words for. Like a smooth downpour of summer rain but did not soak the two of them… She was no longer contented with a shadow of feeling. She desired the full essence. She wanted to be drenched.

"It's your turn."

Snapped out of his reverie, iridescent crimson focused on her. What was she saying?

"Y-you gave me so much but took so little-"

A sweat-tinged palm moved to cover her mouth, the colour of her lips similar to blatant evidence of passion he had left all over her skin.

"Now I want to give it back to you. Let me know your truth."

No. She mustn't. She did not know what she was talking about. She could not comprehend what it had cost him to hold back. If he had his way, red, blue-black and sickly green blotches would vie for space alongside tenderly pink bruises. Unlike Deidara, she would break. This stubborn self-reluctance was frustrating, and a meaningless end to a struggle over something he didn't understand. Fighting back the dizzying surge of dark excitement at willfully misinterpreting her offer, he closed his eyes. Something made contact with his chin, and the skin seemed to tingle.

Half-lidded eyes now gazed at her, a deep scarlet shade that was smoky and unwavering in intensity, like the absolute inertia of his body. The only sign of reaction was the long, shuddering breaths he was taking, as a thumb ran along the enticing swell of her lower lip. They were so close that she could lick his upper lip and taste the richness of their longing.

"Please."

Staring at her without blinking, he slowly ran his knuckles down her cheek. They did not move. Or speak. Or breathe. Jerking her chin up further, he closed his mouth over hers. Rough hands rolled her onto her back, even as his larger body covered her smaller one. The sound of ripping cloth was ignored. One hand reached for offered innocence as she relaxed to accommodate him.

Unsteady flickers of flame cast prominent shadows against the grainy walls, shadows that refused to stay still while constantly changing shape and height, but never separated.

Eventually, the unheeded embers died down.

* * *

He left the sleeping girl the same way as before.

Unharmed.

Her purity was tarnished but intact.

Years of perfecting himself had all but guaranteed her safety. She did not ask him questions, like why he kept his clothing on or why he wouldn't venture much further. And he was grateful that she hadn't. That could open up an avenue that would ultimately lead to her death.

Just like attempting to choke back the urge to inflict pain upon unmarred flesh. It was compensation for what he could no longer do, even in the untransformed state. Deidara would have understood, for he was used to it. Viciousness was as natural to him as speaking. However, that wasn't the main issue.

Hyuuga Hinata had committed a grave crime.

It was not her kisses, which he would gladly return, causing her to embrace him; or the gentleness with which his fingers would trace her –as she whispered everything and nothing– before he gave in to the urge to claim her once more.

She had defied their impossibility to define him.

Worshiping his skill with her body, she had moved boldly beneath his pervasive touch, mewling and moaning in approval, as Sasori tasted hidden sweetness of her guileless caresses and between willingly parted thighs. Hearing his name being distorted in ecstasy, during every orgasm he induced had been powerfully enslaving. Musky blandness was savoured while remembering the number of times she'd been malleable in his hands and mouth. Descending with her into exhaustion had been exhilarating. In that time, he didn't know who was puppet and puppeteer respectively. All of it had been enough to make him want, for that duration of bliss, to fall to his knees and vow- Stupidity. But it was the aftermath that posed the greatest danger.

Holding her, the desire for a flawless self had been forgotten. The constant thirst for a better prototype of perfection had also been abandoned. All those moments were unforgivable. The next time he saw her, she must die.

Which was why he would never return to the cave.

Their haven of illuminating darkness had placated something indefinable in him, and re-woken regret for what he had given up to preserve himself along the same lines as Orochimaru.

How he wanted Deidara by his side now, a safety valve of simplicity that maintained his sanity. Not even his most valued partner could cause such traumatic imbalance to this former sand-nin.

But even as he disappeared into the night, Sasori finally understood the slumber that had been re-disturbed.

The pain of a desperate child –who had never known the love that birthed him– led to the re-creation of 'parents' to fill that void. Those puppets had disappointed and enlightened him about failure. Hence he tirelessly sought to compensate for the flaws in each side, by merging them into the resultant hybrid of himself. Boundaries had been lost, and knowledge to define was forgotten as well. It was necessary perfection to be invulnerable. That was what he told himself and what he believed, until this reminding clarity humbled him. Forever grasping for what he could not reach… it was a needy space that all the jutsu and puppets in this world could not rectify.

Emptiness she had shattered with erroneous humanity, for fleeting moments in time.

Because of that, he would remember. And despise her. Hate her enough not to want to have anything to do with her; detest her so he would not be affected by her gritty strength, her laughter; even her gentle touch that was unforgettably endearing in its inexperienced awkwardness…

But he could never endure her tears, no matter the cause.

And if Fate decided not to spare her by avoiding him, he would prevent those beautifully flawed eyes from crying…

When you sleep in my arms.

Forever.

* * *

**Next up**: No porosities?


	6. Six for gold

**Disclaimers:** Naruto series is copyrighted to Kishimoto Masashi. I'm not making money off this. Just indulging the imagination.

**A/N: **Warning readers that what passes for gore in this chapter might make one queasy. A song for this tricky partnership could be "Dragon" by Zwei. Thanks for the feedback.

**Six for gold**

"Stop."

He does that. In the rice fields nearby, a pack of bullies surround a younger child. Crude, jeering viciousness is conveyed by the wind. Deidara does not understand why, or now. Hence he waits.

Finally, the crowd of little parasites run off. Leaving one battered, snivelling lump of disgrace huddled on the ground.

Telltale jab of uncomfortably sharp metal at the back of his waist prods the blond-haired man towards apparent insignificance. He's not about to argue when his more powerful partner is in a queer mood.

As they approach the brat, it becomes clearer.

Mussed spiky hair, face smeared with dirt and evident tear-tracks, grubby hands clutch a ragged doll of cloth and wood.

Hearing more footsteps, a miserable child looks up. The sight is not what he expected. This mysterious figure wears a large, shapeless black cloak with red clouds; straw hat tilted up to reveal a glimpse of purple, maybe blue eyes. He cannot tell if this one will be kind or cruel.

"Where are your parents, un?"

This stranger sounds somewhat nice.

"I-I have none."

An orphan. Penniless beggar too, by the looks of it.

"Why do you cry, un?"

So direct… a somewhat confused ten-year-old swallows away excess sorrow. He wants to return this adult's kindness.

"I d-don't know those meanies. T-they wanted to take away the last thing I have. I won't let them."

That isn't quite the answer a certain puppet master is looking for.

"Hence you cry, because of the pain these bullies cause you, un?"

One hand pressing the rather grimy toy to a small chest, the other rubs the brown eyes of his tattered treasure.

"This is my older brother. If I really had one, I'd want him to have a voice like yours."

There is no longer any pressure jabbing into Deidara's spine.

"So… this doll means a lot to you, un?"

The world has been harsh on those little drooping shoulders, which is momentarily strengthened by voiced honesty.

"He is everything to me."

Wrong answer.

Large black eyes widen in agony and shock, as they witness the flash of serrated steel puncturing a bloody hole through his thin chest before withdrawing.

Deidara dispassionately watches the wretched body crumple to the ground. The last thing he needs is to clean blood off his feet. It's a boring chore.

"Was that waste of energy necessary, un?"

"I preserved his heart with my kindness. A puppet has no core; it'll take yours to fill its emptiness."

_Then you hurt, and you wonder why. Fool._ Deidara knows how it always ends. The only thing he doesn't know is what or how it hurts, or why one could be seen as a fool in this aspect. Either way, that's a touchy subject where Sasori-danna is concerned.

And they move on.

Leaving behind unblinking brown eyes in a ragged doll that saw everything, and will continue watching without caring. Or knowing. Or comprehending.

* * *

And in between these random travels, missions and our times spent apart... are the times we 'come together'.

By a fireside in the forest, at the inns, sheltered within caves… the list is endless.

When we are tired of the small distance that divides our shared space, one of us will initiate a temporary respite.

Most of the time, I'm the one doing the mischief.

I'll be cocky, taunting that cold, protective farce and driving one mad with my snide waspishness. I want to. And then purposeful rejection becomes sudden acceptance as I cause the loss of those masks. I laugh.

Pin me down. Vent on me as much as can be accomplished, if you can even catch me for slice and dice. Not that you've ever succeeded once, because once is all it takes to perish.

My insolence only spurs one on to greater heights of inventive, demanding and possibly sadistic desire.

I can't stop desiring the testy frustration that suffuses your actions after irritating you beyond grumpiness into emotion, and your verbal lashing which wavers between cruelty and kindness, torture and tease at the same time... Almost scary, except I'm no longer the greenhorn who was leagues below you bastards who forced me into Akatsuki.

I acknowledge I'm an asshole. Possibly the only asshole you don't mind coveting. I am the reminder that despite sacrifices made for truly becoming one with talent, my partner is still human.

I have quite the ability to infuriate, don't I?

However, I do not regret the time spent with Itachi.

I do not know what to think, especially when pale fingers gently trace my features, before resting over my own tanned ones. I worship and I degrade myself at the same time by allowing your examinations, for I know that what I do is reflected in the other half who doesn't want to hear truth about himself. It is the only way I can keep you retaining a firm grip on reality. Ours is not like the foolish masses. Dreams aren't allowed. I sometimes wish I didn't comprehend so much, because I can't cure the pain. Yet. However, my infuriating smirk gives away nothing.

I cannot say anything that fringes on emotion or I lose.

One of my greatest reasons for living is to elicit reaction.

The day I cannot achieve it, is the day I'll end it all.

Did I make it too obvious? I tend to lose my trademark consistency during our murderous comfort of 'senior and junior' camaraderie.

I do not hold the reins, Sasori. At least that's what you should think. Knowing the personality I'm paired with, I'd have it no other way. And is the only time I concede, after we're too exhausted from a day of travelling and missions to slice up each other,

"Art is preservation… only for moments like these."

* * *

Dark, airy and cool.

Warm, glinting and pink.

A precise balance must be maintained, especially for his specimens.

Puppets have no voice and that is perhaps, the most obvious flaw that must be rectified.

The puppeteer is tirelessly attempting to find the one that will animate his creations, despite the constant derision from a bored colleague who is snapping black fingernails to amuse himself. Speaking of that jaded cynic, he is trying not to wince at the monotonous scream that makes his eardrums ring and his consciousness spin.

"Sasori-danna, you're wasting effort, un. I'm telling you one last time, this pathetic dumbass has no talent, un."

Faint orange candlelight glances off burnished razor-sharpness, which trails almost dreamily along scratched and muddied skin. It does not touch various tourniquets that bind relevant areas to control and minimise necessary blood flow, or numerous bruises that are not graced with healing potions needed elsewhere. It refrains from severing a tangled network of countless tubes and wires connecting the experiment to machines that collect data and preserve life.

That metallic extension particularly avoids the lower torso.

This portion resembles a spider unwrapping the cocoon of its catch and deviating unnaturally into meticulous dissection, before draining one dry. Blue and green watch while contemplating absent flaps of skin that have been incised, removed muscle and what little body fat that has been disposed of. What is revealed appears floppy but firm, a beautiful rose enhanced by streaks of leftover virulent red. Coiled segments sit in a slick basin of blood, barely pulsating under gloomy illumination with every swallow or tremble… strip away frippery and it becomes easier to divine the worth. If the refined instrument is too moist or dry, the result of trying to gather accuracy will be skewed. In this aspect however, the puppet master is an eternal optimist. His partner is a stubborn pessimist.

"Let's give it one final chance."

All he wants is to die. Seeing the sickly bile-inducing sheen of exposed insides in a haze of agony, the cloud-nin feels like choking on phlegm but even that has been remedied. These depraved monsters discuss details so technical yet incomprehensible, dismissing him as easily as his name… as if evaluating him through filtered lenses. Pain racks tortured limbs that aren't allowed relief, but it's not as abrupt and searing like the times that bulky bastard ran his tail over fine sinew and scraped earth-white bone of the ankle.

Noting the way their heads are cocked to one side, like- like-

"Yeah well, another note would be nice, un."

_A-Again?_ _N-nooo-_

"Indeed."

Gloved fingers pinch and pull along a tiny section, where the small intestine is bunched to turn a corner while starting to widen.

A wail so shrill that it is unrecognisable to humanity is produced, raw in anguish and eerily garbled to an astounding volume but still cannot penetrate these dense walls. However, escalating noise pollution is enough to irritate the audience into finally jamming one finger in the ear.

"See what I mean, un?"

A flick, a flash, then the consequence of a meaty thud rolls off into the darkness of a dusty corner, leaving the headless torso twitching.

"Different octave, same note. You're right."

"Told you, un."

"Are you trying to piss me off again, you little snit?"

"Don't I always, while making a point, un?"

Wiping the tail on a clean rag, there is annoyance. And exasperation. And easy familiarity that does not need insignificance, such as smiles, for established understanding.

Sasori of Sunagakure will find his voice one day. And Deidara of Iwagakure will be there to confirm it. Their world is full of endless possibilities. Until then, they will keep looking to give hidden talent the freedom of expression.

* * *

You are loudly demonstrative.

You are the most annoying bastard to walk this earth.

You are too much of a constant bother.

Too verbally cheeky for your own good, too intelligent to the point that you test my abundant patience… you are a creature of extremes.

You are (perhaps) the only person I could never consider as a possibility for my puppet collection.

You do not need to know why.

You already understand more than you should.

Your deadly playfulness as you goad me into our 'little volcanic situations'… your temporary truce with the Uchiha was the most trying of them all.

Knowing that something happened, but not what it was- And the sudden peace that transpired, your unusual calm that distracts you beyond my attention, as if focused on another- Are you ready to die, Deidara?

Are you trying to imply that our partnership has never been enough?

You're too persuasively good at making up.

Letting everything simmer, you rouse perverse desire but prevent its release until all else explodes from frustration.

Damn you.

Hearing you snigger as you welcome my brutal attentiveness… you invite venting at your personage too often.

Your mood swings are frighteningly disarming.

Your soft, yellow hair, your purple-bordering-on-blue eyes, the even tan covering every inch of your compact torso… it is superficial charm. The never-ending simplicity of your attraction is defined elsewhere, not beneath pale restless fingers that lose restraint in your seductive presence. You conceal more secrets, even as you reveal others. You are always partially hidden. You are deception incarnate, making one believe that you are a twisted dream brought to life as stimulation is applied. You could be my perfect puppet. It is where your perilous beauty lies.

This is also why you are the muse, the inspiration, and the voice that cannot be captured.

You might be everything. When you are nothing, whoever creates that will share the same fate. For now though, you are whipping boy, warrior, comrade, subordinate, superior… and a word you cannot hear.

I won't say it.

But as you cease baiting me in those moments of respite,

"Art can be undoing mediocrity in explosion… only when the debate is with you."

* * *

And in another related light, we are possibly the most unusual duo in the history of S-class missing-nins.

Together, we create the most astounding masterpieces.

Insidious stealth fades into more obvious shades.

Sneering unscrupulousness initiates the opening.

Detached trickery draws the baselines.

Come.

Wave after wave of calculated cruelty controls growing bloodlust, building up to a ferocious peak whereby the wash of playfulness has been thoroughly exhausted on shores of shallow taxation.

Then it's time to get somewhat serious.

Ingenious consequences of malevolent clay induces random scattering to the winds.

Crushing deviousness of deadly sand annihilates whatever is left.

Crouched low to the ground, poised like a stalking predator about to spring, Sandaime Kazekage becomes his lethal cloak of weaponry.

Silhouetted against unending sky, ready to teach the concept of everlasting beauty, a watchful entity remains motionless on his unusual steed that possesses wings of clay.

Force the absoluteness of our art, and it'll be the last truth ever witnessed.

Throughout all this, individual flames of destruction and despair rise to merge with a much larger unfurling backdrop of devouring redness. Fused with collectively combined dark fumes of chaos, all encountering such blanketing terror are decimated by bloody mercilessness.

Except for the instigators. The eye of the storm.

We take no hostages. We assume no responsibilities.

We are Akatsuki.

* * *

**Next up**: Everyone unites. Sort of. There is an end, and there is a beginning… or is it the other way around?


	7. Seven for a secret, never

**Disclaimers:** Naruto series is copyrighted to Kishimoto Masashi. I'm not making money off this. Just indulging the imagination.

**A/N: **This was supposed to be the last chapter. However, in order to include the last pairing, this fic will be extended by a 2-part bonus epilogue. Italics denote thoughts.

Catches up with the manga for now, and spoilers for 272 and 273 at the end of this chapter.

**Seven for a secret, never to**

_Live._

Sasori-danna sometimes mumbled in his sleep, and that had been the oddest thing he'd ever said two weeks ago (apart from an unknown name). Geniuses had their unexplainable eccentricities, which somewhat justified why he gave the strangest orders at times. Destruction without reducing everything to dust, eh? Either way, it was time to test a small sample of this C2 prototype.

Detonation was the final step for confirmation.

Shrugging at the huge pile of smouldering rubble, a satisfied grin lingered, before vanishing as lone figure looked at the surroundings.

Bits of rock were mixed with sand on the ground. However, the explosion had caused a fair amount of greenery to be shed from the trees. Watching spiraling leaves fall to shroud grains of different sizes, he could not help pointless observation.

Gentle, as if caressing what was concealed, then stopping. Eventually they would wither into nothing, long before the more enduring elements. _But art will never perish in the clay of memories, even if you've betrayed it. So die._

Anyway, it was time to head off to the meeting point. There was a little raccoon to snare. Mounting his giant owl, he left.

0o--------------------------------------------------------------------------o0

Seeing the ruins, she clutched the cloak tighter against her chest. It was the same one he had used to tenderly cover her nakedness as she fell asleep in his tight embrace. Getting it washed without being questioned had always been difficult. And it had been all for nothing…

This was his way of saying no. This was his way of bidding goodbye.

She should have expected an end. What she had not anticipated were the tears.

_Anything is possible, if you want it enough. Hope was whispered into his ear, as his fingers languidly stroked the underside of her breast. Passionately acknowledging her suggestion, their kiss had been devoid of immediate greed but full of unspoken emotion before he broke it off. Poised over her, the melancholia in his voice had been painful._

_There is no freedom in this world, Hinata. To be truly free… is to break off all ties. Could you let go of life? Could you give this up? Could you give me up?_

_No. She didn't know if it pertained to one or all three questions._

_I… I want you to be safely free. You and I, we are polar opposites. And I am glad, to have been able to understand-_

_Understand what?_

_He wouldn't say._

She would never know.

Just like he might not have heard the answer to their question.

Staring at the pile of broken rock for what seemed like ages, she finally comprehended his real message. It was small consolation, but it was enough.

He was granting her as much as possible of the freedom he valued most. By letting her go, she would always be his, even as he gave himself to her, preserved by their terms. It was an eternal promise of sorts to each other, that when all earthbound ties had been broken… they would be free.

Together.

0o----------------------------------------------------0o

"Itachi-san, do you think Sasori can really capture the loud-mouthed brat?"

No response.

It was to be expected. After aiding in extracting Shukaku from its jinchuuriki, this was the last thing anyone expected. Being literally ordered to hand over his prey, when it was the most powerful of all the demons could be seen as a terrible insult. And Kisame knew his partner's personality was structured around pride that was difficult to injure, but should it occur… Orochimaru had paid the price before, and the end result had been one that none of the other members dared to forget.

Watching the expressionless enigma sitting there, chin resting on an arm that was supported by one knee as he stared out over endless sand dunes, the taller man decided not to pursue the question. Uchiha Itachi when provoked out of the final frontier of calmness… was a frightening event.

His Sharingan had stopped spinning, but the ominous shade of scarlet remained. One hand was closed tightly around a piece of rock. However, it wasn't the puppet master who was on his mind. He wanted nothing more than to forget and erase.

_Deidara, please go after the Kyuubi. I've changed my mind. May Kakashi-san give you what I won't._

"Kisame, we're going."

Hefting up Samehada, his partner grinned.

o0------------------------------------------0o

This was… wonderful.

Accumulative peaking of exasperation and amusement was relished, just by watching his horde of mechanically preserved modifications attack a wounded hag whom he had severed ties with long ago.

He was unperturbed by the familiar insignia on the forehead protector of the pink-haired girl, or the brutal ferocity of her blows. Not even with the wrath he provoked, or grim determination in the resourceful child that had actually struck his body. Until she stopped his blade, and reminded him of another…

In that moment, as the aging sack of bones was definitely about to be skewered… she had realised his intent. Large green eyes had widened, lips parted as bruised features tensed, both fearful and pleading towards the old lady she was clearly worried for-

_Mutely beseeching him for an understanding, her inquisitiveness rattled the bars of isolation and weakened his resolve. Fingers reached into his hair, caressing his ear as they bypassed to seek assurance. The time for questions was past. Eyes of a spring morning, whereby dawn had not yet broken and mist was thick above the ground... a word was shyly whispered that he didn't catch. No matter, this was the one who had offered him a priceless secret. He relented, refusal shattering as their lips met, freed instinct guiding him down into the warmth of her gentleness. Conflict was gone, meaning lost in the gift of her presence. All it had taken was totally unmasked concern, tender and forever denied to him now-_

That. Look. Somehow reminded of the foolish secret that gave him no solace.

The girl he wouldn't break. Had she understood his parting message by Deidara- Such unwelcome thoughts were akin to being bludgeoned with a sledgehammer, blanketing his perception in vindictive scarlet. Her curse of humanity had chosen to return at the worst time. And he saw his grandmother through her eyes. And he knew the truth, along with their remembered promise and what must be done.

All reminders must be annihilated. His sanity could not attain needed relief until they were gone. Then he could live without haunting antagonism... _Deidara, forgive me..._

Sasori of the Red Sands readied himself for the final blow.

He'd finally understood what his Hinata had said. And the outcome was expected, a little too drawn-out for his tastes…but welcome. Or at least the meaning of it tying in with a cherished dream, in this familial embrace of his past.

_Die._

_

* * *

  
_

_A/N: _And now, to every season that has an end…


	8. to be

**Disclaimers:** Naruto series is copyrighted to Kishimoto Masashi. I'm not making money off this. Just indulging the imagination.

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay in updating. I've been deluged by RL and finally found the time to catch up with the manga. This has led to a rewrite of chapter 4 to improve the interaction between Itachi and Deidara. In order for this chapter to make sense, my advice is to read the chapter I re-wrote. Sorry I haven't replied to everybody's concrit, but thank you for giving your opinion. Working on the last chapter now… At last! Oh, crude language ahead.

**to be **

Cool. Calm. Inviting. This was a good place to get away from guiding that trouble-making dunce of a partner. Had Sasori ever found him just as annoying as Tobi, back in those days?

Idly running his fingers through the flame of a candle, the flickering shadows skittered over a pile of junk, a dusty large table, cracks in the tall ceiling resembling a lopsidedly grotesque spider-web and the overturned chair with no legs.

A pity he would never again see his senior sitting in this peculiar seat deep beneath the home base, engrossed in studying some odd design while casually attempting to stab him with that tail for interrupting.

In the end, it wasn't that jab which had wounded Deidara. An unknown name from his slumbering partner's lips had. And he was glad that he'd made the decision to split up and take the jinchuuriki's body as bait. The accuracy of calculating Sasori's death was still sinking in, and it was difficult to believe that the puppet master would not be poised on the steps of his lair in irritation after a disagreement, launching-

The pebble whizzing past and barely missing his cheek made him turn. And Deidara saw the one person in Akatsuki that made him burn hot and cold simultaneously. They'd been happily avoiding each other but now that things were moving so fast, what with capturing the various jinchuuriki and re-affirming plans with everyone else... He looked away while nonchalantly trying to cover up uneasiness at seeing a cloaked and ready-to-depart-for-a-mission Itachi descend the stairs, and went back to amusing himself with the candle flame.

"Sasori's actual laboratory would be an apt place to mourn his genius."

Yeah, yeah, and he'd never shown it to Deidara, which was unsurprising, given how private the eccentric puppeteer was.

"But he'd never show it to the likes of you."

That got the former stone-nin's attention, causing him to freeze. Had something crawled up Itachi's ass and died? What was he trying to get at? Was he aggrieved at being unceremoniously abandoned by Deidara, after everything had gone really weird at the hide-out two months ago? For someone constipated with issues, he sounded rather bored. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. He mustn't look at him, mustn't look at the bastard standing at the bottom of the stairs, whose gaze seemed to bore into his skull. Just ignore-

"Not to a constantly-babysat weakling."

The words rolling off that tongue were neutral, but the message was blunter than exploding dynamite. Why now? How could someone sound so disinterested and malicious at the same time? Why the sudden cruelty?

"So here's a little tip-"

"You're talking a lot today, un. Got a long-neeeeded fuck by Orochimaru, un?"

The world was obviously still spinning, but someone was prodding it on with a bloated pufferfish. His tormentor merely continued in that same placidly aggravating tone, as if no interruption had occurred.

"You're a toy unworthy of our techniques."

Teeth gritted, Deidara spun around and was in time to see that asshole stretch and nod almost imperceptibly at the surroundings, then start strolling back up.

"So you came down here now, and thought it worthwhile to tell me I'm worthless to you two, un?"

No response except for being ignored, as the distance grew. The dagger twisted between his lungs was wonderful inspiration.

"Such irony, un. Y'know, I can't decide who to visit next: Uchiha Sasuke-"

Itachi was almost at the door.

"Or Hyuuga Hinata."

One hand stopped on the doorknob.

"On one hand, there's your cock-sucking snake-brother, un. On the other hand, there's this sweetly shy shinobi that Sasori stupidly mentioned in his sleep, un."

Connective research was oh-so-handy and ever so beautiful. Old rumours from that village once hinted at the possible marital union of Uchiha and Hyuuga through the eldest child of each clan.

"One shouldn't have too many toys, un. They could become a hobby to die for. Un."

The taste of turning the tables was delicious. He definitely had Itachi's attention, given the prolonged pause. How deeee-lightful. Damn all these Konoha-obsessed shinobi. Totally untrustworthy. Chocolate brown innocence came to mind, accompanied by a rush of flying weapons. The corners of his eyes were stinging mildly.

"What's the sound of sublime agony when I blow up pretty fingers, one by one, un? I must find out, given my artistic prerogative that your friend once shared, un."

Now it was his turn to head for the stairs.

"I'll do the same for Sasuke's eyes, never fear, un. Now run along, Uchiha. We all have things to do, un."

He couldn't believe himself. It was as if an unknown vent of festering putridity had opened up and he was floating in an inky mess of hubris, with the things he was saying... was Sasori rubbing off on him? Or was it Itachi? Was this a death wish? Damnit, why was he suddenly full of questions, the least of which included an urge to understand what the other man meant to do by verbally attacking him? It was almost intimidating, as Deidara got to the top and was blocked by absolute silence wreathed in shadows. Black clouds in red skies had a hooded and impenetrable stillness. Then that handsome head bowed slightly, just as a low sound reached his ears.

And he tensed, as he realised…

Head shaking almost indulgently and stepping right up to the shorter man, that dry, low-pitched chuckle was unnerving. One hand came up and as Deidara prepared to defend from an assault and respond in kind, it-

Cupped his cheek.

Then slid down to the collar of his cloak, slowly massaged his neck, and pulled him closer.

And wait-No-Was he going to-Or-Was Itachi going to-Paralysed-

As their lips met, so did the cripplingly bold strokes of a kunai.

Resting against a mouth parted in a strangled gurgle, a sensuous whisper was almost teasing. "Your childishness…"

And with a vicious shove and kick, Deidara's limbless torso was sent flying over the steep drop, as his arms and legs were scattered at Itachi's feet.

A crunch and a choked grunt of pain was heard, as the mutilated torso landed on the kunai embedded just above its groin. But he wouldn't die. Oh no. That would be terrible. To lose one so capably crude and annoying enough to hit multiple bulls-eyes without knowing- Deidara's patch-up recovery rate would see that he lived and remembered this lesson. Jet-black eyes were now beatifically fixed on some metaphorically lofty peak, as he gained comfort in re-establishing old enmity that could be ignored instead of all the disturbingly touching bullshit.

"Is down with the trash where it belongs. I'll get your latest babysitter."

As the door closed, another kunai was hurled to extinguish the lone beacon of light. One soul was being gradually purged of contamination. Another soul was plunged by betrayal into the completion of all-consuming loathing and familiar hatred.

The door hinges hissed shut. And each man cursed the end in his own manner.

Goodbye.

* * *

**A/N:** Next is the last chapter. A circle is complete. A circle is dead.


	9. Told

**A/N: **Whoo, the end! A tribute to my favourite Naruto characters, who are all dead (villains-wise). I put this fanfic up elsewhere and took it down due to uncertainty of this experimentation. Conclusions are never easy. 5 years I've sat on this chapter; every time I look, I can't do a better version. So with hardly any tweaks (except to improve the flow POV-wise; I swear I am doing my best to correct that POV weakness), here's the final chapter. Trying to preserve Hinata's tightrope and keeping her intact is tough. I still haven't decided whether the final listed pairing for the story description should be with Sasori or Itachi. The temptation of wanting her with only one of them is so strong!

I nearly didn't want to put this up. Why? See my profile for the reason.

If you have tips on how I can omit the POV weakness, let me know (working on showing). Sorry I didn't reply to some reviews. *thwacks self for missing those and bad manners* Thanks for reading! :D

**Told**

Walking up to her room, Hinata yawned. Neji's birthday celebration had been enjoyable. TenTen had put on a splendidly fierce dance, which everybody watched from behind large rocks (especially when shuriken were unleashed). And who knew Gai-sensei could bake? Happily offering around slices of cake, along with offers of free sparring and partnership to run two hundred laps, Lee had been the perfect gentleman.

Kiba's jokes had fallen flat though, but Akamaru had distracted by nipping Ino on the ankle. A squealing-ly minor disagreement broke out, which ended in Chouji tending to her with some healing salve. Shikamaru's funny anecdotes had been totally forgotten by the time Shino finished his ghost stories.

Kurenai-sensei had to hold Gai-sensei's hands so that he wouldn't bite his nails. A shivering Tenten had hid her face in Lee's shoulder, as he kept eagerly asking random questions. And Neji had walked his cousin home, thanked her for her present and stopped by long enough to receive blessings from the head of the clan.

She hadn't realised it was so late. Sliding shut the door to her bedroom and about to turn on the light- She saw the motionless figure leaning against the windowsill. Old fear from the childhood kidnapping resurfaced, but it wasn't as strong as the realisation of that person holding precious meaning hostage. A shaft of moonlight partially illuminated a sand tiger restricted by glass, before the item was tossed into the air.

Darting forward, her entire being was focused on catching the airborne projectile. Grabbing it and retreating backwards, she was amazed that the other had not moved. Silence stretched like a widening chasm, and then there was movement.

Stepping out of the shadows and forward until his face was revealed, the familiarity was a shock to the senses, but not as much as the cloak he wore. And its significance-

Unspoken history and time hovered between them. She broke the silence by uttering the nearest thing that came to mind, upon seeing red clouds against a dusky backdrop of night.

"Sasori…"

One could hear the fear, the hope, and the inexplicable in the question that confirmed, but not yet consolidated suspicions.

Seeing that no reply was forthcoming, she stepped closer. And the near-imperceptible quiver in lack of expression, lending a slight softness to his face… was not as telling as the lowering of his eyelids to defer his gaze.

And she began to understand. Trying to prepare beforehand was not as crushing as actually experiencing the truth. The outline of the man standing before her became marginally less clear as she backed away. Wanting to tell him off for nearly destroying fragile genius suddenly became insignificant. There was a tightening ache in her chest, and it had suddenly become harder to breath normally.

Slowly turning around to put Sasori's treasure on the desk and staring at it but not seeing anything, civility automatically rose to the fore.

"T-Thank you for coming. It was… good of you to… e-even if you didn't have to."

Noiselessly crossing the distance between them, a pair of well-feared eyes took in the sight of a bowed head, stiff shoulders and bone-white knuckles from gripping the edges of the table. And the lone drop of moisture on transparent glass… that was followed by another.

"Hinata-"

No response, except for the mildest tremble of her shoulders.

And he reached out as he had done as a child, fingers barely grazing peach-coloured cloth when she whirled around, pushing at him. He caught both upper arms, as her hands became fisted within dark cotton.

"Hinata?"

She finally looked up, and the tear-stained expression was painful.

"W-why him… and w-when will you share his f-fate, Itachi?"

They were two separate questions that wounded him in different ways, but only culminated in further agony for her. He wrapped his arms about the shaking girl, as she buried her face in his chest. Supporting her as she wept for the man she could never see again, hating his ex-colleague for affecting her to this extent, angry that Deidara's partner had been able to know and bond with her… and bitter at the cruelty of reality. He was not going to be able to answer her. After this, he would fulfill his destiny in a confrontation with Sasuke.

Carefully lifting and carrying his secret over to her bed, the mattress sagged under their weight as he stretched out on top of it. Letting her expel all the immediate grief, his fingers stroked her hair, causing him to remember the first and last time he had seen her cry…

* * *

Practising to hone powers of observation in the forest was normal. Coming across a little girl kneeling in the dirt, as he headed back to his clan was not. Uchiha Itachi did not usually interfere, but there was an unusually sombre hush surrounding that forlorn figure. Stopping in front of her, he looked down. And she raised her head.

One dirty hand held out a sparrow towards him. From the awkward shape and distorted angle of a wing, it had been crushed.

"Jus… help… hut…one…"

Tears and blood smeared across extremely pale features made this Hyuuga seem pathetically breakable. Just like the bird she had probably been over-eager to help, have and accidentally killed.

"D-di… so fas…"

The audible gulp that accompanied simplicity was something that should not come from small children. It was something he had done only once around the same age… temporarily mourning the loss of innocence, until the leeching burden of upholding clan glory trampled it into dust.

And the Uchiha heir had realised that the sooner one discovered the truth of adults, the greater the potential of cursed talent and/or intelligence. No one else had grasped this, which was why he preferred to be alone. To his face, it was admiring genius. Behind his back, it was "scary freak". This Hyuuga was too young to suffer the same fate. Unlike him, she did not seem to possess the spark for enduring. The daito was stealthily drawn.

Still extending the dead animal towards him, white eyes that were dry from recent understanding did not blink. And the question that was asked uncannily coincided with his intentions.

"Take?"

How could he think that? When had he become- This? He couldn't do it. Sheathing his weapon and dropping to one knee, Itachi finally found a handkerchief in one pocket and began to carefully wipe her face clean. Removing the bird from her hand and dropping it behind him, he rubbed at grimy flesh, but not all the stains came off. Gently coaxing her to her feet and carrying the girl, he headed towards the nearest river so that everything could be washed off.

Holding her hands beneath the water was… oddly relaxing. Even when she splashed some at him, he only shook his head in vague amusement and offered to buy her an ice-cream. That bought him a smile, which he barely stopped himself from returning. Her cheek was as smooth and white as the powdered, sticky dango he liked to eat.

Piggybacking her back into Konoha, they stopped by a street vendor, whereby the ten-year-old purchased two vanilla ice-cream cones. Then it was off to the nearest playground, because she wanted to.

Helping her onto a swing and taking the other, it was not too long before she dropped her cone on the ground. And he offered his, because, well, it was the right thing to do, and not because he liked seeing that bashful smile. This little girl was stubborn though, for she insisted that they share. Taking one lick, then passing it back to her whereby she imitated him, then held it out to him again... Rosy slightness appeared on her cheeks from pure joy. After it was finished, he was pushing her on the swing. Sending her higher as requested, against his better judgement.

"Wait, don't stand-"

Balance was lost.

Barely dodging around to the front in time, unsteady footing while catching her resulted in him landing flat on his back.

Dreamy cuteness loomed in his immediate vision, followed by a tremulous "S-sowwy…"

"Itachi," he managed to gasp out.

"Hi-na-ta," she whispered back.

"Fu-ny eye," was her next line.

"Pretty eyes," was his response.

"Fwo," was uttered as her palm lay against his.

"Yes," was confirmed as his hand closed over hers.

And they were content to lie there, looking at each other.

However, the sun was setting.

Taking her back to the main Hyuuga house, he was just in time to witness Hyuuga Hiashi floor a servant into the gate with one strike for "losing the heir during a simple outing!"

Seeing his daughter in the protection of an Uchiha only made it more humiliating. Receiving Hinata and ordering another servant to take care of her, the patriarch curtly thanked Itachi, and then instructed him not to come near her ever again.

And for one moment, the chuunin wanted to rip the skin off that arrogant face. His friend looked so confused but before the servant carried her out of sight, she smiled once more and pointed at her eye.

This time, he smiled back.

And it was one of the few memories that sustained him, as he advanced further into cumbersome prestige… and when he finally broke free, following a damned path to save his beloved brother.

* * *

Head resting against his chest, Hinata felt foolish. And embarrassed. And many other things that were starting to return with clarity. Pulling back slightly to look at a face that had not been seen for so long, white eyes could not help but notice the world-weary line that had deepened beneath each socket, as his unblinking eyes stared at the ceiling.

Older and more handsome than before, he was quiet and unpredictable as ever. Why had Itachi mercilessly annihilated his clan, except for a younger brother- Fear resurfaced, but was also blotted with childhood memories. The overall result was indecisive confusion.

Despite the years of absence and all that had happened, it was as if they had never been apart. Being held in his arms only reminded one of their past…

* * *

Tiptoeing closer to a particular clearing within the forest, the six-year-old girl peeked from behind a tree. The rumble of thunder overhead warned of impending rain. For today, Hyuuga Hinata was going to disobey her father. There was a friend to find… a friend she had missed ever since the day those gates were rudely closed in his face.

What she saw was a solemn teenager crouched on the ground, hands full of kunai. Explosive tags with a red dot were stuck to numerous rock and tree surfaces. Then he was airborne, somersaulting and hurling the weapons.

There was a cascade of explosions, as each sharp point eventually struck its red target (deflected or not).

To be in the presence of such skill was astounding, and only made her ashamed of her own progress. Not that there was time to worry about that, as she barely dodged a kunai aimed for her face. Whirling around, the child came face-to-face with lethal steel that if he had not stopped in time, would have gone through her throat.

Staring into unblinking whiteness, the sight of a trembling girl was… unwelcome. Remembering her inexplicably affected the perpetual calm he was perfecting, and this second meeting only confirmed it. Both did not speak as they looked at each other, keeping quiet for different reasons. A drizzle interrupted the tension.

Turning away for the nearest shelter, he realised she wasn't moving and doubling back, grabbed her by the wrist and towed her along. Ducking into the hollow of a tree as the downpour increased, it was a relief to avoid being drenched. But why was she still shaking?

Hinata hoped her face wasn't too pink. Space was relatively limited, and to be this close to a male was supposed to be improper, even if she didn't yet understand why. Remembering that she had nearly died by his hands was not helping. The boy who had been kind, who had smiled and helped her… no longer existed? And the thought hurt.

The feel of his arms around her was surprising. His words were curt.

"Stop shivering."

She should have listened to her father about this stranger. Chopping at his arms with a fierceness not seen in her training with her father, she would have broken free if he hadn't dragged her back, used his legs to trap hers and tightened his hold.

His breath warmed her scalp, as she smelled metal, earth and dust from his clothes. Hinata did not like this uncomfortable silence.

"Y-your eyes… are not funny."

"And yours are not pretty."

Yes, she had to blame herself. He was no longer a friend. He-

"They are beautiful."

What?

Pulling back just enough to look up at him, her cheeks were now a vibrant red. Her ears had to be playing tricks on her. But his face had softened slightly, and the gentle tone of his voice… one hand reached up for his cheek. Tracing the line beneath a black eye, she whispered back, "And t-they… I miss."

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Didn't he believe her?

Reaching up with both hands, she tugged at his ears until he lowered his head. Remembering what her mother had once done with her father (even if she didn't quite understand and guessed it was a better way of making one believe), Hinata tried to kiss his eyelids. And he closed his eyes, allowing her to do so.

When she was done, his response was to kiss her… on the mouth. It sent happiness throughout her body. He was hugging her tightly again, lips close to her ear.

"Hinata… I want you to remember this-"

He spoke to her about strength. The kind that lasted and was what they both had, even if it was different. And if she ever came across another person like that, be kind. Forget him. Some of it was impossible to understand, but she clung to every word doggedly, willing herself to remember until she was older and able to figure it out.

With her lips, she agreed. But the last condition… she would not tell him that was impossible.

When the Uchiha massacre happened a week later, she couldn't understand why he would do such a thing. When Uzumaki Naruto became more noticeable, she realised his strength was remarkably similar to Itachi's (even if it was not as early-developed or easily apparent) and was attracted. When the infatuation became more intense, to the point that seeing Naruto get hurt in the chuunin exams resulted in dangerously aggravating her heart wound...

It was a reminder that Hinata could not forget, no more than she could dismiss the true source of a shadow.

* * *

Finally giving in to the intensity of her gaze, he looked at her. There were so many unanswered questions from both sides. It was not hard to guess what her first question would be. No doubt it would be like all the others, wondering why he had killed his clan before launching into accusa-

"Has… life been difficult all this while?"

Ah, she was not everybody else. She did not do as asked, and still cared. But her concern for Sasori rankled. And he would not tell her about his eyes.

"I get by."

Hearing that, Hinata was glad. However, how could someone be such a paradox, kind yet ruthless at the same time? It made no sense, or at least one that she was still struggling to comprehend. And his clan- His questions interrupted contemplation.

"How did you meet Sasori? How well did you two know each other?"

According to Deidara, Sasori did not make gifts, much less give any away. For his Hinata to actually receive kindness that unmistakably bore the stamp of the inventive puppeteer was aggravating!

"We accidentally sought shelter in the same cave when it was raining heavily. We talked… a-and told each other things-"

His grip on her upper arms increased uncomfortably. Black stood out more sharply against red. Telling him about the time she and Sasori had fought would not be a good idea. Neither was-

"Tell me the truth, Hyuuga Hinata. He doesn't give presents, unless-"

The feeling of being torn in two was not pleasant. On one hand, she wanted to be honest with her childhood friend, but she did not trust him to be able to cope. On the other hand, she did not want to betray the secret that had been shared with Sasori… walking the thin line of relative truth had become deadly.

"Only the gentlest kindness- You're hurting me!"

That wounded Itachi beyond anticipation. Imagination could lend a variety of meanings and images to one word alone. Put it all together, and fury threatened to consume his consciousness. Moving abruptly, such that she was now pinned beneath him, the urge to strangle was soaring by the second.

"How far did you go with him? His mouth? His hands? You-"

Black flames spinning dizzily in a sea of blood were frightening to behold, as his grip tightened. The memory of Sasori telling her to live came to the fore, along with his wisdom. And she gasped out his answer.

"We did not violate the marital rights established only between husband and wife!"

His hold became less painful. Relief was overwhelming, followed by realisation. Had- Could it be- Itachi was jealous? This reaction was unlike him. But a new emotion blossomed. Anger. Who did he think he was? Telling her to forget him, leaving and expecting her to pick up the pieces with someone else, trying to take away Naruto, then coming back to contradict himself- She slapped him.

The sound was amazingly loud in stunned silence.

"Y- You are so selfish! Abandoning me for your own goals, wanting me to cope as you wish! Then you come back to turn everything upside down by being contrary! Does the past mean anything?"

Hearing the amount of hurt behind her anger, fury drained away. He could not tell her. Like Sasuke, she too was a secret. And it was the secrets that had enabled him to live to this day. Staring down into white eyes and a pale face, ruefulness coloured his voice as one hand cupped her cheek.

"The past… is…"

She reached for him as he came closer.

And his lips found hers.

The beginning was familiar; when it had been a chaste, close-mouthed kiss as children… until she allowed him greater access.

Lips involuntarily parting beneath his, the tentative touch of her tongue against his was satisfying in a way that he could not describe. Initial caution hinted at the hidden vein of trust that had always been their secret, and as assuring as the blanket of the night… reminiscent of returning home.

And his defences crumbled.

Swallowing a sound from her that could have been a sigh or moan, his closed eyelids slid open to reveal a slit of black. He enjoyed watching delicate lashes flutter slightly as she responded to him, until a slim hand finally found its way between the seams of his cloak as the other pulled at his back.

One leg between hers, his hands gently ran down her sides and stopped at her waist. The right hand rose to cup her neck, thumb caressing pale flesh over a pulse. Then it was exposed again, as he blew gently at the spot. Feeling her shiver against his body, a smile could not be suppressed as he kissed unmarked skin… and pressed his mouth to unresisting softness.

Hinata was rigid for a moment, and then her fingers were slipping past dark cotton to slowly run over his stomach. The slight catch in his breathing was not hidden by his pause, as his mouth closed over hers once more. His hair was so malleably silky, unlike the unyielding length of his body. His hand on her leg was oddly thrilling, as it slid upwards and displaced cloth with each passing second.

The promise that she represented only became more intoxicating with time. As his lips touched pale tenderness again, she shifted beneath him. Fitting herself more closely into his warmth, his feelings were now intense enough to be clear. He wanted to strip away the layers between them, to hear his name uttered as she gave in, to feel her lips against his skin as careful consideration became urgent need, to invade and inflame her with his desire until she moaned-

"I-Ita… chi…"

Raising himself up to look down at hazy eyes and invitingly parted lips, he could see how precarious her current state was. All he had to do was kiss her again and she could be his, to pass the night together in softness and heat and ecstasy that would be welcome agony to share. Just like the greedy dreams that he had forced himself to push away, where they would come together in many ways and only one ending. To hold and be held in satisfyingly weary aftermath and the heartening promise that-

Rolling away to stand, taking deep breaths to try and slow a racing heartbeat, Itachi realised how perilously close he had been to hubris, especially when his fingers were about to stray beneath her skirt. He had promised himself that she would always be safe from him. Acknowledging how easily he wanted to give in and then denying himself… was akin to being submerged by an avalanche of snow. Along with the suspiciously sinking feeling: If he did not go, he would be unable to see himself through what was to come. And then he would be unable to completely defeat Uchiha Madara.

On her part, Hinata was both disappointed and relieved. Being this close to him was similar to provoking a forest fire: likely to get burnt but wanting and needing it to happen. If he had not withdrawn… the action soothed and stung at the same time. Naruto. Why was she thinking of Naruto? Of course, because- There was something more important to clarify, though.

"W-where is this going, Itachi?"

He refused to look at her as he replied. "Nowhere."

Reaching out, she caught hold of his wrist. Having him near, and the thought of losing him again… was too much. It was her turn to be selfish.

"Come back to visit occasionally, please? You'll always be a friend."

Gritting his teeth at the sheer frustration he was experiencing from the churning of inner turmoil and her request, Itachi wanted to be alone. He just had to get some sense into her first.

"Don't ask for the impossible. Our paths are too different."

"All we have is now… and I don't want to lose you again!"

Turning around, the man knelt down as she hugged him. All they might have was this moment. Stroking her head, wanting her to soothe his pain... He breathed in her scent and promised the unspeakable with the fierceness of his embrace, as if willing his essence to fuse into her eternal consciousness.

Then he was gone, cool night air stirring curtains away from the window.

Walking over and staring out into peaceful darkness, Hinata sighed. How could she tell Itachi that Sasori would always own a part of her soul, just like a vibrant blond-haired shinobi who was now anything but a shadow? Itachi made her heart hurt. Sasori made her head hurt, and her heart ache. Naruto. Thinking of Naruto- These three were important and unforgettable in their own ways. What had been, what was being experienced and what was to come… If only the last two could be clearly determined, instead of hazy destiny.

But she could wait and someday, she would be free of all this exquisitely painful torment. Until then, it was hers to suffer and rejoice in, the one thing that made them all infallibly human… and had brought her past home to complete her.

**FIN**


End file.
